Remember the Good Times
by BlackandGray
Summary: AU. Instead of being kidnapped by Piccolo, young Gohan was kidnapped by Radditz and has not been seen by his family in over thirteen years. By sheer coincidence Gohan returns home... but he has no idea who he once was or where he originally came from.
1. Prologue

**Remember the Good Times**

**Prologue**

The once peaceful planet no longer was so. Trees and buildings had toppled down early on. Knocked down from earthquakes or attacks, it was difficult to tell. Vegetation had long since vanished. The calm, tranquil waters had turned red with gallons of blood from both native and foe, crashing in large, furious waves against the shores. A black, stormy sky took place of the beautiful clear green. What was once New Namek was now a battlefield. A dying planet.

One young man was trying to escape this fresh hell, dodging multiple ki blasts as he raced across the pockmarked surface. Those chasing him also wished to escape, fearing death as naturally as any other creature. But the fear of punishment from their master, one of the most feared beings in the universe, overrode their instincts, and they kept on chasing him. '_But_', thought the warrior as he barely moved to avoid a sickly green colored blast, '_If I did the job right, that bastard should be at the check-in desk in the afterlife'_.

After one blast came closer than was comfortable, he briefly turned to throw one of his own, hoping to hit the offender. A squeal of pain shortly followed, telling him that at least someone had come into contact with the deadly force. Good, at least he still had enough energy to at least throw an attack. A smirk spread across his handsome, albeit scarred and bloody features. That was one less worm to worry about.

His small victory was short lived, the smirk disappearing off his face as a white boot connected with his head. He fell hard, his own momentum sending him sprawling across the muddy ground. The moment he stopped, he tried to get up and keep running. The pod was only meters away. He could see it! And this planet was going to blow any minute. But before he could even rise to his knees, his attacker's foot pushed him back down, holding him firmly in place.

"Not so tough now, are you monkey?" That voice. He knew that voice. The warrior spat mud from his mouth and looked up. The bright orange skin and white hair only confirmed it. Jeice, one of those elite bastards of the Ginyu Squad. He couldn't resist a chuckle, ignoring the pain it caused him to do so. All of those pompous asses had died gloating about their superiority, how he could never defeat them. He thought he had gotten them all. Looks like he missed one.

Jeice may be a Ginyu bastard, cowardly, and weak as hell compared to him. But the young warrior had used most, if not all of his energy in the previous battle. He barely had enough energy to run, much less to fight. And if that smug look on Jeice's face was anything to go by, they both knew it.

A bright light caused him to be blinded for an instant. He blinked a few times, then looked back up. Jeice's head was gone. Oh, the body was still there, slowly falling over to the side as the warrior continued to watch, but the head was completely gone. Friendly fire aimed at him, perhaps?

"If you don't stop gawking and start running, hybrid, I don't think even I can help you," came a drawling voice. He turned, eyes widening in surprise at his unexpected ally. He opened his mouth, to either ask why, how, or even maybe a thank you. He didn't know at the time what he would have said. But before he could say a word, his rescuer was off, returning fire at all those that had been chasing him. Not wanting to waste a second of the time he'd been given, the young warrior lifted himself off of the ground and began running once again. He was too drained to fly.

He slammed into the pod moments later, his protector having managed to keep his pursuers away. As the door shut, he began hitting random coordinates. He had no specific destination in mind, just as long as he was off this planet and not sailing into a star. The pod rattled a bit as it lifted into the air, some ki blasts managing to hit it, but it stayed firm in its path. It was designed to take far worse than that. He sent a silent thank you to his ally. '_If you live, maybe someday I can return the favor, my friend_.'

When the pod had cleared the atmosphere, it was when it really hit him. He was _free_. Finally free! For the first time since he could remember, he was free of that selfish, egomaniacal, psychotic tyrant! Sure, it had taken everything he had, and he had almost been killed by millions of weak goons. But, if he had died, he would've died free. He looked down at himself, and at the blood quickly soaking through his clothes and into the seat of the space pod. '_Hell, I may even die now_.'

He could feel the sleep stasis coming on, but he forced the effects away to quickly check where he was heading. Backwater… small… large population of incredibly weak creatures… Perfect. Anyone hoping to get revenge would never be able to find him here. It would give him plenty of time to heal and train before he left to seek out what life he could salvage in this big wide universe.

The ships programming soon overrode his will, and his eyes drooped closed as he fought to stay awake. His last conscious thought was, '_Who the hell names a planet E-arth?_'


	2. Look Up in the Sky!

**Chapter One - Look Up in the Sky!  
**

_Gohan_…

Black eyes snapped open, and he immediately regretted it. He looked to the side, the curtains pulled back from the window to get a clear view of the sky. It was still dark. Too late to be awake. Too early to train. What was he thinking? It was never too early to train.

He carefully placed his feet on the floor, moving slowly so as not to disturb his wife. He brought his hand up to his eyes and rubbed the last of the sleep away. This waking in the middle of the night was not an uncommon occurrence for either of them. And almost every time, it was about the same thing.

_Gohan_.

He shook his head, and stood up, slipping into his customary orange gi and weighted shirt. There was nothing like a good hard workout to get your mind off of things. Pausing for one second to see if Chichi was still asleep, he opened the window and jumped down to the ground.

Dew had already spread across the ground, but he barely noticed as he walked towards his training area. His mind was too preoccupied to be bothered by the little things. Now was a time to focus. He had to train, to be faster, better and stronger. So that next time, when his son was on the line, he'd be able to save him. Next time, he wouldn't be so weak. He wouldn't fail as a warrior, and even more so as a father.

"Gohan…" he whispered. That name was never spoken without the now customary emotional baggage. Never spoken lightly. Not even a "remember when," type of way.

It had been almost thirteen years. Thirteen long years since Goku's own brother had taken their boy from them. A man he hadn't even known existed until that day. He would always remember that day. Sure, he had fought almost to the death before, and had done so since. But until that day he'd never felt the rage. He'd never felt that almost animalistic, saiyan nature to tear Radditz into shreds for daring to lay a hand on his child. He wanted it more than anything. And if he ever saw his brother again, he was sure that blood lust would return.

But it hadn't been enough. No matter how strongly he felt that desire, it hadn't been enough to save Gohan, his first child. He had foolishly gone to face Radditz alone, even though he knew he was no match for him. All he could see was red, and all he wanted was to get his son back. But instead of defeating Radditz and triumphantly returning home with his skittish son in his arms, he had died. One well placed shot by his brother, and a gaping hole had replaced his abdomen. As he fell, Radditz had laughed. A loud, cruel laugh. But beneath the noise, he could hear something far less jovial. A child's cry, his son's desperate plea. "Father!"

That cry became his motivation. He had let his own child down by failing to save him. On King Kai's planet, he trained day and night, even skipping meals to become stronger. Never again would his own weakness stop him from saving his child. He wouldn't let him down again. He never wanted to hear that disappointed cry from any of his children as long as he lived.

Shenron had resurrected Goku a year later, only to face his brother once again. Radditz had come, followed by two other saiyans, to collect the legendary Dragonballs for their master. By the time Goku arrived at the scene of the battle, his good friends Yamcha, Tien and Chiaotzou had all died. But with the combined efforts of Piccolo and Krillen, they had managed to already take out the big saiyan, a giant brute who had gone by the name of Nappa.

The fight was brutal, and unmerciful. As Piccolo and Krillen held back Prince Vegeta, who seemed uninterested in the fight of the two brothers and only observed with bored amusement, Goku and Radditz fought again. And this time, Goku was the superior warrior. But, there was no Gohan to rescue.

"Where is he?" Goku had screamed at his brother in his final moments. "What have you done with my son?!" Radditz had only laughed. That same terrible laughter from a year ago, and he died laughing. Goku had failed yet again. He had focused his blind rage on the last unsuspecting Saiyan, and Vegeta had barely escaped with his life.

Goku shook his head, returning from his musings. He looked briefly back at his home, where his wife still slept.

Gohan's disappearance had been hard on Chichi. Krillen had told him that after he died, she'd been devastated, crying for weeks on end. If it hadn't been for her father, the Ox King, she would have most likely committed suicide and joined him in the afterlife. When he had returned, a light seemed to have sparked in Chichi, and she was a bit of herself again. But as the years went on, with no word about Gohan, she reverted back to the state she had been in before, and had become little more than a zombie.

Shortly after the three saiyans had come and gone from earth, King Kai had contacted Goku. He said that after a little digging, he had discovered that Radditz, Nappa and Vegeta had worked for a very powerful tyrant by the name of Frieza. Though they didn't know if Gohan was definitely with Frieza, any lead was better than no lead.

Though he was able to find Frieza on New Namek, there was no Gohan. Frieza just loved to rile him up. He told him over and over how much the boy had cried at first, how easily he had broken, and that he was now a true killing machine, destroying planets by the hundreds. He described in detail the viciousness that Gohan was capable of, and all the terrible things he'd done in the name of his 'master'.

That had been the final straw. It was like some great, roaring beast had been released inside him, the power surging through every vein in his body, as he transformed into the first super saiyan in over a thousand years. Then he went insane, and the many years of heart ache, pain, sorrow, and hatred went into his attacks as he mutilated the once all powerful Frieza. By the time he was done, there was nothing but a quivering mass left on the ground, and only moments to go before the planet was destroyed.

When he left Namek, he was convinced Frieza was no longer living. But even if he survived, there was little he could do. The tyrant's body was beyond repair as a fighter.

The only thing that hurt more than knowing that Gohan had been delivered into the hands of that monster, was hearing what Gohan had become. His sweet, innocent, skittish little boy, with the giant smile and who used to laugh at the butterflies, was now a cold, ruthless murderer of the innocent. He'd been broken. His son was now probably no more than a machine. And by all the descriptions, it had sounded like his son _enjoyed _such acts…

No! There was no way his son would do that. Not his boy. Frieza had been lying. It was all in an attempt to rile him up, get him angry and lose control. None of it was true. It couldn't be.

The arrival of Dr. Gero and his evil androids temporarily put a hold on the Gohan search, as Goku and all the other powerful forces on the earth came together to fight. It had been a close call, especially with the arrival of Cell. But thanks to the hyperbolic time chamber and Goku's new Instant Transmission technique, Cell had been defeated. Though many earthlings had been killed, they had all been resurrected safely thanks to the Dragonballs once again. Rather than be harassed by the media, they had all agreed to let the World Champion Hercule take all the credit.

But just as Goku was about to leave earth to scour the universe for Gohan, something both unexpected and wonderful had happened. Chichi was pregnant. The thought of another child had never even crossed their minds, yet here it was. Oh, they didn't see it as a replacement for Gohan. Never would the first child be replaced in their minds. But this child would be loved just as much as they loved Gohan. And they would see the baby as a way to bring light back into their lives that had been dark for so long.

Chichi had given birth to a baby boy, whom they named Goten. Everyone always commented how much he looked like his daddy. The night his son was born, as Chichi slept away, he took his newborn son in his arms and made a vow. '_No one will ever take you away from us, Goten. I'll make sure of that._'

As soon as Goten was able to walk and talk steadily, Goku wanted to train him. Chichi had fought vehemently against it. She wanted her children to become scholars, to use their brains instead of their brawn. But Goku could see her worry behind her reasons. She didn't want Goten to get hurt. All she wanted was for him to be home where she could watch over him and keep him safe. But unlike with Gohan, Goku stayed firm. He would train Goten, and would push him to become better every time. As Chichi raised her voice to argue once again, Goku used the last tactic he knew would work. "If I had trained Gohan, we might still have our son today."

She just looked into his eyes, and to his shame she nodded, turned and walked away. He wanted to apologize and let her have her way, but he didn't. They both knew he was right.

As it was now, Goku wouldn't leave Earth to search for Gohan at all corners of the universe. He had his wife and Goten to look out for. If he left he would be breaking his vow to Goten, for he couldn't keep him safe if he was on the other side of the universe. However, it didn't mean he had given up on Gohan. He was convinced that Gohan would one day come back to them. Their sweet, shy and innocent boy would be all grown up, a good natured and caring warrior, and he would find a way to come back. He just had to.

Goku blinked and looked around. It seemed while deep in his thoughts, his feet had taken him to his customary training area. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. He took a deep breath, and as he let it out he cleared his mind of all distracting thoughts. This was a time to train.

* * *

"Hey, look up in the sky!"

"That's awesome!"

"That was so cool! Dad, come out here and see this!"

Goku looked up from his breakfast. Chichi managed to catch his eye and jerked her head towards the door before going back to cooking. He sighed, snagging one last bowl of rice before heading outside. It was probably some new lizard Goten had found, or some disgusting _thing _from under the house.

He found both boys out at the front of the house. Trunks was in the air, and Goten on the ground, both pointing and gawking in the same direction. Trunks and Goten had been best friends for as long as the two of them could remember. Though Trunks was older and a bit more powerful than Goten, they were often seen sparring as viciously as their fathers, but without the hostility. And if something were to go wrong, they were the first suspects, and more often then not, the culprits.

"So, what are you boys shouting about today, huh?" asked Goku jovially as he inhaled his rice. Goten slowly rose in the air, wobbling a bit as he did so until he was at Goku's eye level. Only recently had Goku gotten around to teaching Goten how to fly, and he was still trying to get the hang of it.

"It was so neat, dad! This big rock fell out of the sky and it crashed into the mountain."

"It wasn't just a rock, dummy. It was a meteor, that's what my mom says!"

As the boys argued about whether it was a really big rock or a meteor, Goku looked in the direction they had been pointing at before. He couldn't see anything that would signify a big rock hitting a mountain, but then again it could be hidden by the trees. He extended his senses toward the area, and almost choked on his rice in surprise. There was a ki signature over there! It was weak, and wavering, but it was there all right!

"Goten," said Goku, and he immediately had the attention of both the boys. When Goku's voice got that tone to it, they both knew something serious was going on. "Go into the house and tell your mother to find all the bandages and medical supplies we have. And tell her to try and find some senzu beans as well. Trunks, go home as fast as you can. If your dad is there, tell him to come find me immediately. Understood?" The two of them nodded, their grim expressions looking out of place on their usually grinning faces. They took off towards their respected designations as Goku traveled towards the dying ki.

He didn't know what to expect. Maybe it really was a rock and it had crashed onto some poor unsuspecting person as they were hiking on the mountain. Though it was very unlikely it was so. Any human hit by an asteroid falling from space would have been killed instantly. So that left one option. It wasn't a rock, and something was inside. And Goku didn't like that thought at all.

The site was only a hundred miles or so away from the Son home, so he arrived in almost no time at all. As he lowered himself down to the crater, Goku's hopes of a hurt human plummeted. At the bottom of the hole was a silver sphere, a large, red one-way window on its door. It was scorched and dented, as if it had been though an asteroid field, or been caught up in a battle. But there was no mistaking what it was. A space pod, like the one he used when he had escaped Namek. Like the one Radditz had arrived in.

Goku landed on the edge of the crater, kneeled down, and waited. He didn't know what was in there. Several possibilities ran through his head. A weak and weary traveler maybe, wishing to settle on a new planet? An injured and dying being? An enemy who knew how to control its ki, waiting for the right moment to attack? It could be anything, and until Vegeta arrived, he would wait right here.

"This had better be important, Kakkarot," came the growling voice of the man he'd been expecting. "I was in the middle of my training." Goku held back the urge to uncharacteristically roll his eyes. If it didn't concern training, food, or his family, Vegeta didn't deem it as important. So he opted not to say anything, and just continued to look pointedly at the pod.

Vegeta quickly got the hint, and walked towards the crater and stood beside Goku. He looked at the still slightly smoking space pod, and sneered. "This is what you called me over here for?"

"Can't you feel the ki, Vegeta?" Goku finally asked, tired of Vegeta's attitude already. Like always, the Prince of the extinct race was planning on making things as slow and difficult as possible.

"Of course I can feel the ki, Kakkarot. Do you think I'm an imbecile?" It was so very tempting to answer that question, but Goku just bit his tongue and remained silent. "It's weak."

"It's wavering, Vegeta," he calmly explained. "Which means it's either bad at controlling its ki or severely injured."

"It's weak, Kakkarot, controlled, injured or otherwise. You have no use for me here."

"We don't know what could be in there! For all we know, it could be a thing like Cell, or someone who's after the Dragonballs, or," he added in a whisper, "it could be a saiyan."

Vegeta, with his super sensitive hearing, caught the last part of Goku's sentence. "A saiyan? Do you know how unlikely it is that a saiyan would be in that thing? We are the last of the saiyans, no where else do they exist."

"You never know, Vegeta. We exist, after all." Vegeta just huffed. A moment of silence passed.

"If you're that worried about what's inside, why don't you just kill it, Kakkarot?" Vegeta asked, as if he were asking about the weather. Goku just stared at him, trying to determine if he was serious or not.

"I won't kill it because I'm not that cruel, Vegeta."

"Then why are you waiting so long to open the damn thing? If it truly is dieing in there, leaving it be will kill it as surely as blasting him to dust."

Goku had to admit he had a point. Together, they slid down the crater and stepped towards the beaten space pod. He stepped towards it and dug his fingers around the edge of the door while Vegeta got into a fighting stance, arms raised in preparation of throwing a ki blast.

'_One… Two… Three!_'

The door peeled away easily, and Goku jumped aside, prepared for an attack. Nothing happened. Vegeta didn't drop his stance, but his eyes widened slightly. Faint breathing could be heard from inside, so that meant that whatever was inside was still alive. Goku walked around and closer, to see what had arrived on Earth.

"Oh my…"

The young man, or what vaguely resembled a young man, looked like he had been dipped in a vat of blood. It covered almost every inch of his body, soaked through his clothes, and some still slowly oozed from various gaping wounds on his body. There was a nasty cut on his face that may or may not leave a scar, but beneath the blood he could see various other scars. This man was, or had been, a seasoned warrior. Goku was surprised he was even alive.

"It looks like you were right, Kakkarot," came Vegeta's surprisingly soft voice. Goku looked over at his companion, but Vegeta wasn't looking at him.

"Right about what?" He didn't have time for the Prince's games. This man was going to die soon if they didn't do something.

"There is one more saiyan in the universe."

Ice. That was how it felt at that moment. Like liquid ice had rushed through his veins and frozen him on the spot. Saiyan. Slowly, almost defiantly, he turned his head to look once more into the pod, and searched for that tell-tale sign, the one sure thing that separated a human from a saiyan.

Around the man's waist, soaked in blood like the rest of him but still present, was a brown furry tail.

* * *

A/N: So what do you all think of my little modifications? This chapter's twice as long as its predecessor. Meanwhile, I have colleges, scholarships, senior year and a black belt test in March to focus on, with little time to write or do anything else. So, until next time, and I hope it's not too long.

REVIEW with feedback, please!! Flames will be used to burn my old computer!


	3. Welcome to E Arth

**Chapter Two – Welcome to E-Arth**

"But Chichi…"

She could kill him at this moment. She really could. Right now she would like nothing better then to see him drop dead. How dare he do this to her? No, not just to her. How dare he do this to them? To her, to himself, to their own son? Hadn't he realized what he'd done? They were all in danger because of his actions!

"Don't you 'but Chichi' me! I don't want to hear it! I want him out of here. Do you understand me, Goku?"

"Yes I understand, Chichi, but he needed help!"

"If he needed help you could have taken him to Capsule Corp., the Kame House, even the lookout, anywhere! Anywhere that wasn't here." Kame, why couldn't he just understand?

"I would have, but they weren't close enough. He needed medical attention as quickly as possible. Don't you understand, Chichi?"

Her eyes widened marginally before narrowing into a glare.

"How dare you blame this on me, Goku? This is your entire fault!" She was pacing back and forth in front of her husband, shooting him a venomous glare each time she passed him. "You know damn well that nowhere on earth is too far away, and that Capsule Corp is far more capable of not only caring for it, but keeping it contained!" That thing upstairs wasn't a person. It was a thing, an 'it'. Her words and pace were picking up steam, and all she could think about was that thing upstairs. Her words were coming faster then she could think. "Don't you see what you've brought into our house? Have you forgotten what happened? Because of your carelessness, you've endangered our son. Don't you even care?!"

She glanced up to glare at him once more, but the look on his face forced it to fade away. Goku's normally cheerful and recently pleading look had disappeared without a trace. What was left was a cool mask, hard and unbreakable. His eyes, though not mean or glaring, might as well have been for the lack of emotion in their black depths. And she knew that she had gone too far.

"You know as well as I do that I would never let anything hurt, Goten," he said coldly. Chichi suddenly found it very difficult to stay where she was, straight and unmoving. She'd give anything to crawl into another room apologizing, but her own pride and righteous anger refused to let her do that. As well as past memories. "_Gohan will be fine, Chichi! We're just going to the Kame house. What can happen_?"

"Yes, I know that, Goku. I know that very well. But whether you let or don't let things happen, they still happen."

"Chichi, rest assured that if that saiyan upstairs ever lays a fowl hand on our son that I will kill him with my bare hands. His health is only a small priority when it comes to you and Goten." He drew her towards him, and she didn't resist as he enveloped her in a strong yet comforting hug. She sighed, and she could feel his concern and sincerity flow through him into her. Oh yes, she was assured.

"Besides," he continued, pulling back so that they could see each others faces, "Vegeta brought over some of those new ki blockers Bulma made. He's wearing them as we speak. If he should try anything, he'll be too weak to cause much damage, and his ki is now at a level so low that Goten could take him down no problem." That was a lie, and they both knew it. He had set it so that she could take him down with no problem, but he wisely chose not to say it lest it spark her anger again.

"Well," she said, wandering over to the kitchen to prepare dinner, "as long as he has those things on I suppose it's fine for the moment. I'll at least sleep better, anyway." She caught a look of triumph on his face and whirled around to face him, the previous glare back on her face. The victory immediately vanished from his smile, and he looked back with a slight hint of fear in his eyes. She mentally cackled. What was the fun in a man if you couldn't scare him a bit?

"But I don't want Goten to be alone with him." He visibly gulped, and her silent cackle turned into silent laughter.

"You got it, Chichi."

* * *

_I'm dead… _

_You're not dead. _

_I'm dead… _

_No, you're not. _

_Are so. _

_Are not. _

_Of course I'm dead. _

_Why would you think you're dead? _

_This place is too comfortable. If I were alive I'd be in so much pain… and sitting in that damn pod. _

_You're not dead. _

_I am so. What do you know? _

_I am you, so I know so. _

_Well I'm me too, and I know I'm dead. I fought Frieza. No one fights Frieza and lives. _

_Father did. _

_Father's dead too. Don't you remember? Frieza said he was dead and he's dead. If he were still alive he'd have found me. Right? _

_Whatever you say. Hey, I guess if you're dead, you can find father now, right? _

_No. _

_Why not? _

_Cause I'm not dead. _

_I thought you said you were. _

_… Damn you. _

_You see, I'm right. The rational beats out instinctive once again. _

_Right. How did you know I wasn't dead? _

_Easy. We'd be in HFIL, and you know it. _

_True. What now? _

_Now? Now you're supposed to wake up. _

_No… _

_Wake up… _

_Wake…up… _

_WAKE UP! _

The young warrior awoke with a start. This hadn't been the first time he'd had an argument with his conscience about whether or not he was dead. Usually those took place in the Regeneration tank. But not this time. He was way too comfortable to be either in the blasted thing or just out of it. Most times, if you were unconscious when you were brought out of the tank, you were either smacked awake or were slammed down on a metal slab in the medical bay.

The room was small, but larger then any private quarters he'd ever received. A window was across from the bed he lay on, and he could see trees and grass outside. This planet must really be backwater to still grow its own vegetation was his first thought as he saw the beautiful landscape. '_Either that or I landed on some sort of farm_.'

The bed he was in had a wooden frame with a feather mattress, and despite his alert state he would like nothing better then to just lay down all day and absorb the softness and comfort, but knew he couldn't. He sat up slowly and carefully, mindful of his injuries. This planet was primitive in technology after all, and wouldn't have the technology to fully heal him in such a... short amount of… time….

He stared at himself in shock. The wounds were gone, there was no pain… He was fully healed! He leapt out of bed, and almost fell over as dizziness hit him instantly. He sat back down and placed a palm to his head, eyes pressed shut as he waited for the sensation to stop. Finally it passed, and this time he slowly rose from the bed. There was a mirror next to the window, and he slowly walked over to it, lest another dizzy spell hit him.

The first thing he noted was the lack of bandages on his person. In fact, the only cloth he had on was a pair of strange orange pants that hung loosely around his waist and legs. The gaping wounds, stitches or even red, angry scars that he had been expecting were nowhere in sight. He was happy to see a few new scars. That meant the entire horrifying experience wasn't some fanciful dream. There was a thin line from his left hip to his right shoulder, where he remembered Frieza's ki disc sliced across him. If he'd been an inch more to the left, that thing would have cut right through his heart. He pulled the hair back from his face to look for anything new. Yep, right there. Underneath his eye on his left cheek, a scar went from the corner of his eye closest to the nose, across the cheek and to his ear. He let his hair fall back in place, and saw that his long dark spikes hid the new scar from view. He held up his hands for a finger check. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine….

'Damn, finally lost one,' he grumbled mentally. The pinky on his right hand had been completely obliterated. Not even a stump remained. The knuckle also hadn't survived whatever had torn the finger away. He shrugged. He counted himself lucky that he had lost only a finger and not an entire hand. And with the knuckle removed, less people would notice the missing digit unless they were in the habit of counting fingers. '_Good thing I'm left handed_,' he thought, and chuckled at the optimistic thought. The death of Frieza it seemed had left him in a good mood.

At the thought of missing limbs and fingers, his eyes widened and he immediately turned around. He let out a breath of relief upon seeing his tail, the fuzzy appendage wrapped tightly and in one piece around his waist. Good mood or not, he didn't think he would have anything optimistic to say about losing his tail, the only visible piece of saiyan heritage he had.

He wondered what had caused the dizziness. By all accounts, he was fully healed. The mirror showed a hell of a lot less scars then he'd expected, and there was no pain to speak of. Aches and pains he wasn't even aware of were now gone. But for some reason he felt… hollow. As if he had no strength. His muscles, though as toned and firm as they were a week ago, now felt as if they held no power. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to visualize his ki. He found it easily enough, but there was something very wrong. It was much smaller now, in comparison to the vast wells it had been before. And the most worrisome fact was he couldn't access the little bit he had. He was empty.

'_Probably used it all up in the battle_,' he rationalized, trying not to panic. He'd just lived through the biggest fight in his whole life, using every resource available to achieve his goal of ridding the universe of the vile lizard. Of course he'd be drained. '_Nothing to worry about_.'

At that moment, he heard a noise and whipped around. Someone was coming up some stairs, it sounded like. Judging his current weakness, he doubted he could successfully win a frontal attack. He'd have to be sneaky. He quickly and quietly walked to the door, and stood to its left. That way, when whoever entered the room, he would have full advantage for a split second. Then he would get answers as to where he was and how he was healed so fast.

* * *

Goku walked upstairs to fetch their new houseguest for breakfast. He hoped the young man was awake. Three days had passed since he and Vegeta had found the dying saiyan in that space pod, covered in blood and barely breathing. All it took was a senzu bean and the man was physically healed immediately. But when the saiyan hadn't woken up, Goku bet that some things needed more time to heal then others.

For two days and nights, the young man had tossed and turned, murmuring or in some cases yelling out in his sleep. Some of his words were undistinguishable or in another language, while others could be plainly understood. "DIE, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" was a particularly common phrase yelled out, along with others much like it. But one night, as Goku had placed a cool cloth on the warrior's head (Chichi had refused to go anywhere near him), his saiyan hearing had distinctly heard a whispered "Father…"

It was hard, taking care of this person. Goku thought he'd had saiyans all figured out. They were vicious, cold blooded fighters that wanted nothing more then blood on their hands and the dead at their feet. The young man's appearance when they first found him, as well as his uncontrolled outbursts only strengthened Goku's beliefs. But then that night, when he had whispered, "Father…", so longingly and with such sadness, Goku couldn't help but feel his heart ache. How could a member of the race that had stolen his son be capable of such human emotion? It was difficult to see this person in either light.

But today, Goku would go in there with no judgment. He'd finally meet this person who'd landed on his home planet, and find out his intentions. He was pretty sure the man was awake, as he'd heard footsteps earlier. Finally he reached the door, effortlessly putting on his customary 'Son grin.' 'Let's see what we're dealing with here,' he thought before opening the door.

Almost instantly after entering the room, Goku felt an arm quickly snake around his throat, a warm body pressed against his back. Before the man holding him could say anything, he grabbed the arm that was currently holding him in a common choke-hold, easily threw the saiyan over his shoulder and slammed him onto the floor. The young man had yelled in surprise at the unexpected fall, and was now lying on the floor with his eyes closed. Goku still had the man's arm in his hands.

"If you know what's good for you," Goku said calmly, the cheery smile still on his face, "you won't try that again." The man on the floor opened his eyes, his glaring obsidian eyes meeting Goku's. After a brief moment of silence, the boy nodded curtly. Goku's smile became a bit more genuine as he helped him to his feet. So he had caught the hidden threat. Good.

"My name is Son Goku, and let me be the first to say 'Welcome'!" Goku said, the grin coming naturally as he spoke. The young saiyan had taken a few steps away from him, his back close to the wall and, Goku saw after a quick look, in easy access to the door or window should something happen. This guy had paranoid written all over him. His house guest was currently glaring at him, probably because of that failed attack from earlier, but Goku guessed that the glare was just a natural look, like Vegeta and Piccolo's.

"This is E-Arth, right?" the saiyan asked. Goku blinked stupidly for a moment before understanding.

"Yes, this is Earth," he pronounced the last word slowly and carefully, as if speaking to a slow child. The man's face didn't change, but Goku thought he could see relief in his eyes. Goku's curiosity got the best of him. "Why do you ask?"

The young man smirked cruelly, his scarred features seeming to harden as he did so. "Judging on my means of travel, I wasn't quite sure if a malfunction had occurred or if I was blasted off course. It's nice to know I ended up where I intended."

"And why did you come to Earth?" Goku asked. Though his tone was nonchalant, the question was anything but. That beings from other worlds came to Earth for terrible things was no secret to him or the other Z fighters, and if this saiyan, young or not, had come for similar reasons Goku would not hesitate to remove the threat to his family and his home.

The man seemed to shrug, though he did no such thing. Goku distantly wondered how one could convey an act without actually doing it, but pushed that thought away as he answered. "I was in a hurry to get off my last planet." Goku noticed he did not say 'home'. "I really didn't have a destination in mind, which is good because I could probably be followed to planets I knew. After punching in a bunch of random coordinates, Earth became my destination. So it was just the luck of the draw." The man smirked as he said this last part. Goku didn't like it when this saiyan smirked. There was something deliberately malicious about it that reminded him of so many people…

"My friend and I found you about a hundred miles east of here. You looked in pretty bad shape, so I brought you here to my home. We were wondering what could have caused you to be in such a condition…" Goku drifted off. The young man had begun to frown at the badly masked question, and the glare became more than just a natural look. He decided to let it be for the moment. If those injuries and his reaction were any clue, it would seem as if the young saiyan had escaped hell itself. He hadn't detected any lie in the man's explanation about how he picked Earth, so was there really any need to inquire as to what happened before he arrived? Well, there was one reason…

"You're welcome to stay here for as long as you wish, but there is one thing I have to know before I can allow you to leave this room." Goku dropped his smile, his face becoming rigid with seriousness. The young man did nothing but raise an eyebrow in question. "Do you intend in anyway to harm this planet or its inhabitants?"

The man didn't blink in surprise at the question, as Goku half guessed he would. After a few moments of silence, he finally answered, "I mean no harm towards anyone unless they intend to harm me." In other words, unless provoked. Goku's smile came back, and this time it was for real. That answer he could accept.

"That's good enough for me. However, my wife will be less easy to sway. Until she's convinced you're no threat, those ki blockers won't come off." He pointed towards the metal bands on the saiyan's wrists. The young man brought his hands up to his face (Goku noticed one of his fingers was missing) and stared at the bands, as if seeing them for the first time. Goku suspected he hadn't had much time to inspect before he'd come upstairs. The bands were about an inch in width, as thin as paper, but the metal was almost unbreakable despite its weak appearance.

"Ki blockers?" the man questioned, still staring at the bands. Goku nodded.

"They were invented by a friend of mine, in case we ever came across dangerous and powerful individuals. These would make sure they wouldn't cause harm in captivity or out."

"Is this why I can't tap into my ki?" the young man asked angrily. His hands had dropped to his sides and were currently clutched into fists. His eyes were like beams of fury as they focused on Goku. '_If looks could kill_,' he thought.

"Yes, it is. And I don't suggest trying to break them off. My friend promised dire consequences if that were to happen." What would happen is that, should the blockers be removed for whatever reason without Bulma's special remote she'd given him, nearly all of his ki would be immediately sucked out, knocking him unconscious from the shock and only leaving enough for him to continue breathing. This ensured a Z Fighter would find him by the time he came around or would be too weak to fight back. What he had now was what a slightly powerful human would have, and that he couldn't even tap into unless his instincts reacted in an emergency.

The young man didn't seem to hear him, and Goku could almost taste the intense rage in the air. Goku returned the young man's glare as he slowly began to power up. Whether or not the young man before him could sense ki levels, any being in the universe could feel true power, and that was what Goku was doing.

Eventually the rage was suppressed. It was still there, Goku had no doubt, but at least now it didn't seem as if the young man would lash out irrationally.

"You were a man in need," Goku explained slowly. "That was enough for me to help you. The blockers are in place to ease the mind of my wife and friends, and they won't come off until they say so. I may be a forgiving man, but know this; if you lay a hand against my family, I will tear you apart myself."

The young man stared at him for a moment, but Goku didn't lessen his display of power. He was dead serious, and if this man couldn't sense that he was as good as gone. Suddenly the saiyan snorted and Goku blinked in surprise, his ki lowering without his noticing. How could he be _laughing_?

"Don't worry," said the young man, an edge of humor coloring his words. "I didn't escape one death to fall so easily into another." Goku actually smiled at these words, and he surprised himself by doing so. Surprises never cease, he supposed.

"No, I guess you didn't. Come on, let's go down to eat." They walked out the door, the young saiyan following a few steps behind the elder in silence. Before they descended the stairs, Goku snapped his fingers as if remembering something and turned around.

"I almost forgot. What's your name?"

"Name?" This time it seemed Goku had caught him off guard.

"Yeah, a name. I have to introduce you to my family, after all," he smiled. He'd decided, despite the man's actions and shady answers, that he quite liked this saiyan. There was just something about him that Goku couldn't explain… he seemed to draw Goku to him.

The young man didn't answer, turning his head away from the older man and glaring into a corner. A few moments of silence passed.

"You do have a name… right?"

"Of course I have a name!" he snapped, finally tearing his gaze from the corner to Goku's face. Goku could sense the rage from earlier, but it wasn't as potent. He could see other emotions warring on the man's face that took away the sharpness of his anger; shame, and embarrassment.

'_Kame_,' Goku thought sadly, staring at the uncomfortably young man in front of him, '_what sort of life did he lead where he doesn't even have a name_?' Before Goku could speak again, the young man finally answered.

"Mystic," he said, straightening his back and glaring at Goku, as if daring him to contradict him. "My name is Mystic."

Goku smiled. Any name, made up or otherwise, was better than no name. He laid a hand on Mystic's shoulder (he chose to ignore the flinch) and said, "Welcome to E-Arth, Mystic."

* * *

A/N: Woo! A week before Thanksgiving! How you like them apples?!

Considering this is my senior year, as well as me having a job and a goal of getting a black belt (March, baby!), I will not have all the time in the world to write. I will try, not promise but **try** to get at least one chapter out a month.

Now that you've read, review! Constructive criticism would be appreciated.

_**REVIEW!!!**_


	4. Damn Brat

A/N: Here's my Merry Christmas present, from me to all of you! And don't tell me you don't celebrate Christmas, I'm not that stupid to think everyone does. It's the thought of well wishes and fun holidays that count, right?

Anywho, on with the fic!

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Damn Brat...**

'Mystic' escaped the Son house as quickly as he could. He knew he wouldn't be able to last long on this unfamiliar planet with the ki blockers in place, but he needed to be somewhere away from those people so he could think.

The Sons, as they had called themselves collectively, seemed to be isolated from other beings such as themselves (he wasn't sure if the term was earthling or earthian, and he wouldn't try either until he knew). A large patch of grass surrounded their modestly sized home, and the trees around this circumference seemed to act as a natural wall to anything or anyone that passed through the forest. The trees were tall and large, the foliage effectively blotting out the sun, becoming darker the further you went in. Perfect.

Mystic noted that the deeper he went into the darkening woods, the more the trees changed. Around the edge of the Sons' property, the giant plants were straight, uniform and indistinguishable. However, after just a few minutes of walking, the trees varied not only in size, but in color, shape, even different leaves. He soon came across a tree that had grown at an odd angle, creating a sort of hump before extending straight up. Deciding here would be as good a place as any to rest and think, he sat on the hump and leaned against the straight bark. He was still shirtless and shoeless.

The first thought to stumble into his mind was the family that had taken him in for the time being. '_But if that she-beast has anything to say about it_,' he thought with a grimace, _'I'll be out within days._' Son Chichi baffled him. From societies he had observed, almost every one had a male as the leader of each unit or 'family'. Others had no such system of parentage, like the Saiyans. Females were either inferior or were of equal status to the males. But this was the first time he'd ever seen a unit being governed by a woman, and if he were honest with himself, he would admit that she scared him just a little bit. Despite the power Son Goku had shown him earlier when he was in that room, the same man quailed under the glare of his mate, or 'wife', as these people called each other when they were matched together. Even the child, a young boy that couldn't be older then seven, was completely obedient to her demands. That woman ruled her household with an iron fist, and everyone in there knew it.

While Chichi would seem stern and cold to the casual observer, Mystic could see the affection in her eyes whenever she glanced at her mate and child. He could tell that she was the sort that would jump into certain death if it meant she could save those she loved. Of course, the only thing he could detect when she looked at him was pure loathing. It didn't bother him. Actually he was used to that by now. '_Not like it's my first time being hated,_' he thought, snorting in amusement. Whenever he met a new person, there were two emotions he was generally met with: anger and fear. Hatred and loathing was not a new thing for him by far. But still, considering the man in orange had told him that it was up to _her_ when these blasted things came off, he found her current attitude displeasing.

At the thought of the ki blockers, he once more brought his hands up to see the metal bands, as if the mere act of glaring would cause them to fall off. These weren't like handcuffs he'd seen before. Those he'd practiced slipping in and out of. But these damn pieces were pressed right into his skin. If he wanted to slip them off, he'd most likely have to lose a few more fingers and deglove his hands (1).

In his rather short life, he'd experienced many things. He'd been beaten to within an inch of his life. He was responsible for the deaths of countless beings and the destruction of hundreds of planets. Most seasoned veterans had been in the regeneration tank fewer times then he had. His best friends and closest comrades had been killed in front of him. After all that, and still somewhat sane, he thought there was nothing short of death that could be worse. But being deprived of his power… His strength had been his one constant in life. Sure, it was always growing, or after a battle there'd be less then usual, but at least he had it, and what he had he could always use. No matter what, his power was there, to fall back on, to be secure. But this time, he had the smallest amount of ki he'd ever had, probably smaller then what he had at birth.

He knew he wasn't a good person. He had done too much to ever be considered thus. When he died he fully expected to be sent to HFIL and meet his ancestors that also definitely made it there. In fact, he was looking forward to it so that he could beat the shit out of Radditz for all eternity. But for his life, Frieza's destruction was supposed to be his retribution. His saving grace, the one act that would at least partially make up for all the horrors he had caused. He had finally killed the bastard, losing the lives of his friends, his savior from his chasers, and almost his own life. And after all that, after ridding the universe of its most terrible tyrant and surviving, he was clapped in irons. Like a criminal. A common mongrel. Not like the savior of the universe. He knew he'd done a lot to deserve this, but it all seemed wrong. He didn't come here to destroy the planet or hurt anyone. That part of his life was over. But here, these people knew of his kind… they knew of his power, and already he had been judged. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

_I do deserve this_.

_You do not._

_I do. I don't deserve to disrupt this planet, to live peacefully the rest of my life. I've done too much. I've killed too much. I… I enjoyed it too much._

_You only enjoyed it when you didn't know any better. But you do know and have for many years. You cannot blame a killer for being a killer if that is all he knows how to do. _

_But that doesn't excuse the killer._

_True, it doesn't. But neither can it condemn him wholly. It is also the fault of the creator of the killer, and he has met his end. And at the killer's hands of all things._

_That still doesn't exc-_

_I never said it did! But neither does it mean you can mope about for eternity. And neither can you go about killing yourself, either. It would be honor less, and an honor less suicide is a coward's suicide. What Frieza's death does is clean your slate. It doesn't fix the past, but it allows it to be forgotten. Stop thinking about it. Remember the good times._

_That's just it. I don't have good times to remember._

_Then you've just been given a chance to make some, haven't you?_

_I guess… _

_There, you admit it. Victory yet again._

_Now what?_

_Hm?_

_Since you have proven your genius over my primitive and pessimistic thinking, what do we do now?_

_Look for father, perhaps._

_I thought we went over this this morning._

_We did. I just let it be. And I wouldn't put it past Frieza to lie just to yank your chain._

_Frieza had better things to do then to lie to a lowly half-breed. Father's dead._

_A lowly half-breed? Since when have you referred to yourself in such a way? And why the hell should you listen to that rat lizard, especially since now he's dead himself? _

_Why shouldn't I listen? Somehow father was supposed to survive a fight against fucking Freiza when he couldn't even win a fight against another saiyan? I'm supposed to believe that a man who couldn't beat a weakling like Radditz somehow managed to get the power to defeat a member of one of the strongest families in the universe?!_

…

_I didn't think so. Father is dead and buried. Mother probably is as well. Besides, I don't even remember what they looked like or where they were from. Even if they were miraculously alive and I did meet them again, we'd be strangers. _

_But-_

_Didn't you say to forget my past? My parents are my past, so they will now be forgotten._

_That is not-_

Crack!

Mystic's eyes snapped open, not moving an inch otherwise. It wouldn't do to tip off his would-be attacker that he was aware of their presence. That crack had been a little too close for comfort, and berated himself for not noticing the intruder earlier. He tended to get more then a little sidetracked when it came to talking to himself.

_That's the first sign of madness, you know._

_Shut up._

He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to find out where this other person was. He may not be able to sense ki like others he knew, but there were more ways then one to tell where a person was. The sound of their breathing, a swish of hair, the sound of clothing moving, their smell… the possibilities were endless.

There, a boot on dry ground, almost silent. Only beings with sensitive hearing could possibly hope to hear it. He kept his eyes closed, though he was becoming decidedly nervous. That sounded as if the person had come directly in front of him. He couldn't possibly be that out of whack due to his lack of ki, could he?

He opened his eyes.

It took every ounce of control not to jump or yell. As it was, his eyes just widened in surprise before narrowing into a glare.

_Damn brat._

The Son child was in front of him, his head tilted slightly and staring at him as if he were the most interesting thing in the world. The boy wore a long sleeved version of his father's outfit… a 'gi' they called it. He was almost a miniature mirror image of his father, and personally Mystic found it very creepy. Their names were even similar to one another's. What was his name again? Goken? Gohan? Gotu? Something along those lines. Who cares? The important thing was why the brat was here… with him… alone… most likely without his parents' knowledge…?

_Fuck._ This couldn't end well.

"What do you want, brat?"

The boy looked down on the ground, arms behind his back, and he began to rock back and forth on his heels.

"You look like Mr. Vegeta when you do that?"

"When I do what?"

"Glare and talk like that." Mystic's eye twitched. Was the brat comparing him to an earthian? No way in hell was he…

Wait a minute… Vegeta? As in, the royal name Vegeta? As in, the name of the last living Prince of the Saiyans, Prince Vegeta the MCDLXV?!(2) He'd only met the man once before, years ago at the age where everything was faded and fuzzy. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. A nearly extinct race with less then ten survivors and one ends up on the same planet as him? It.. it was almost impossible to think about! He filed the information away and turned back to the situation at hand: getting the brat away from him.

"That doesn't answer my question. What do you want?"

"I want to play with you."

The innocence and sheer absurdness of the statement threw him off his train of thought, and he blinked rapidly a few times before he managed to wrap his mind around the words. Play? With a child? When he'd been specifically told if he touched him he died? Fuck that.

"No."

This time it was the kid's turn to reel at the answer. He stared at Mystic as if he'd never been denied a game in his life.

"But.. but why?!" he asked, eyes widening by the second. Mystic sensed danger, but he didn't know of what kind, just that it came from the kid and it scared the crap out of him.

"Because I don't want to."

The kid just stared. And stared. And stared. Just when Mystic was about to poke him to see if he was in fact still alive, it happened.

A sniffle. Followed by another. And another.

_Fuck._

"Y-y-you don't like m-me?" the brat managed to get out, tears appearing at the corners of his eyes. Mystic was almost in panic mode. He didn't know what to do! His expertise in children was close to zero. No, it was zero! He looked around for anything, anything that could get him away or stop the brat from crying. He looked down at his wrists. _Maybe…_

"Woah, calm down kid. I didn't mean it like that." The kid sniffed, bringing an arm up to wipe at an eye where a stray tear had fallen.

"Y-you didn't?"

"No. Uh.. you see… you're parents told me I couldn't play with you until I can get these off." He brought up his wrists, the detested ki blockers easily visible. The kid almost instantly stopped crying (Mystic felt like strangling the kid for making him freak out about false tears). He came closer, inspecting the pieces of metal like he'd never seen them before.

"Like a game?" the brat asked, now so close that Mystic could feel his breath on his arm.

"Yes, like a game." Mystic rolled his eyes. He guessed, in a sense, it was true. A game of "How Long it Takes the Bitch to Like Me".

"So if you got them off you could play with me?"

"Suuuuurrrreeeee….." In theory anyway. By the time the blocks were off he'd be too far away for the kid to even find him, let alone play a game with him.

"Then I'll help!" the kid exclaimed with a big grin on his face, seizing his left wrist.

"Wait, no kid!" But before Mystic could even slap the kid away, the pint sized brat had his wrist in a death lock, grabbed the ki blocker, and pulled.

Almost immediately there was a reaction. The ki blockers seemed to tighten of their own accord, to a point where even his bones were hurting at the pressure. But worse then the tightening was the excruciating pain as the blockers began to rapidly drain what precious little ki he still had. They were like little tiny metallic vampires, sucking his life force away.

He looked at the kid, and saw that he had jumped away, looking as if he were nursing his hand. The boy was terrified, if his wide eyes and pale skin were any indication. But even as he looked at him, the corners of his vision began to darken. This could very well _kill_ him. _Damn brat_. He grit his teeth, and mustered what little strength he still possessed.

"Go.." he ground out, but the kid didn't move, still staring at him in horrified fascination. And Mystic couldn't find himself to care. As his eyes rolled backwards and he fell to the earth, he had one last conscious thought.

_That harpy will be happy at least…_

* * *

**(1)** Degloved, in the sense I was using, means to have the skin removed. I got the story from my mom years ago when she told me about this guy who got his hand caught in a machine and was 'degloved' from his elbow to his fingertips. Ow…

**(2) **In case you are unfamiliar with roman numerals, I think that translates to Prince Vegeta the One thousand four hundred sixty-fifth. Yeah, lot of Veggies running around.

A/N: I think old readers will notice a slight change, eh? No 'Tag!' but 'I'm gonna die!' Though the old story was sappy and cute, this one fit better, I think. Tell me how you all liked it!

Sorry about the slight lateness (my goal was to get it out by the seventeenth). First a four day power outage (huge windstorm!) and then a few days visiting families for holiday, not much time to write. So, here it is! Next one will be up next month!

_**REVIEW!!! **_


	5. A Lone Saiyan Child

A/N: No I didn't forget this fic, nor am I dead (though I'm sure that's not what you were worried about). Not wanting to hold you back from this chapter any longer then I have to, I placed the **Reasons I'm Late** on my author's page. Please read that before yelling at me, it really couldn't be helped.

Now, onward to the chapter!!_  
_

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**Chapter Four - A Lone Saiyan Child in the Land of Despair**_  
_

_The boy looked up as the training door slid open. He looked to be about seven or eight, but since his birthday was unknown, no one could ever know. Though young, he was tall for his age, whatever it may be, his hair reaching around his mid-back, and prominent muscles were all over his body. _

_A woman walked in. She was a soldier, if her armor was anything to go by. She was much taller then him. If he were asked to guess, he would assume she was at least seven feet tall. Her face was hard, as any seasoned veteran's face was, and she looked him up and down. He had been training for some time before she walked in, and he was almost embarrassed that he was being evaluated like this. His hair was greasy and knotted, the clothes he wore were torn and ragged, and sweat was dripping off his body. But he held his head up and looked her in the eye. She had already seen him, it did no good to hide._

_After a moment she snorted and nodded her head, as if in approval of his attitude. She walked over towards him, and he became even more aware of her height, as she towered over him. But instead of standing over him, she knelt down to look him in the eye, surprising him into speechlessness. Most commanding officers (as the badges on her armor indicated she was) liked to look down on you, reinforcing their authority and your inferiority. Instead, this woman was looking him in the eye, as if to say they were equals. Her face was pale, but it looked natural rather then from any sickness, which clashed sharply with her ink-black hair, cropped close to her head. Her eyes were a light purple, almost like crystal, and they held his black eyes effortlessly. _

"_I like to get a good look at my comrades before we move out on a battlefield," she suddenly said. "Makes for a sense of unity and teamwork rather then working by yourself. Wouldn't you say?" He could only nod. Her voice was not beautiful, like most women he'd heard, nor was it soft. Her words were sharp and commanding, her tone powerful. This was a woman who demanded complete attention, and it seemed she was also the type to get what she wanted._

"_I am Daen, Commander of the Eighth Division." The boy's eyes widened in recognition of the name. Daen the Pain, as she was often called, was infamous throughout Frieza's army. She came from one of the arctic solar systems, which explained her pale skin, and was considered the second most powerful person in the army. Daen was also known for her frequent punishments from Frieza, unafraid to question his plans or abilities, outright denying an order, or, on one memorable occasion, outright **laughing** at him in the middle of a ceremony. The only reason she wasn't dead yet was because she was needed. There was a bet going around the many ships about when she would die, and for what reason. "You were assigned to me early this morning, Soldier192834c. I suppose Frieza wants you out of the way." The boy nodded. Lord Frieza seemed to have it out for him, but he had no idea why, and no one ever bothered to explain. _

"_I won't ask what you've done, if indeed you did do something. I assume you know about my terms with Frieza," she raised an eyebrow, and he nodded. "Then you must know I am often sent far away, or into very dangerous situations in attempts that I would perish or become lost. Before I go anywhere though, I want to know I can have a crew I can count on. Can I trust you, _boy_, to stand beside me and face danger, even if it would be your death? If not, you shall be transferred immediately." _

_The young child didn't even hesitate before agreeing. He didn't know why, but danger thrilled him, caused the blood to boil in his veins and his senses to heighten to a degree he could never achieve in the training room. If he survived these impossible places Lord Frieza often sent Daen and her division of outcasts, then he was one-up on the old lizard. And if he should perish, which would most likely happen, he would have died a glorious death, in the utter ecstasy of battle._

_Daen smirked. No one smiled. Smiling was for the innocent, and no one that knew Frieza was innocent. "Good. I have no room for cowards in my division. Those are for the Ginyu Squad." She rolled her eyes at the name, and the boy found himself smirking. Those five were utterly ridiculous. _

"_Now, while every common man on this ship is called soldier, I find it much easier to know the name rather then memorize your number. Easier to call out in the middle of battle. What is your name?"_

"_Half-breed," he answered immediately. Besides 'Soldier' or his number, that was all anyone called him. _

_Daen's face lost its humor, and her crystalline eyes narrowed into a glare. "Don't fool with me, child," she all but growled, and the boy was instantly reminded that Daen wasn't thought of as the second strongest for nothing. But why would she get so mad? He told her his name. At least, he thought it was his name. Maybe he was wrong?_

"_That _is_my name," he told her, his tail unraveling from his waist and flicking around irritably. "It's what everybody calls me." But it didn't seem as if she was paying attention to him anymore. Her eyes were now locked on his tail, following the appendage's movements back and forth._

"_That's no name," she murmured absently, eyes never leaving the tail. She then whispered something, and the boy, with his saiyan hearing, could understand it perfectly. "_I thought they were all** gone**_."_

_She abruptly stood up, and began to pace back and forth, mumbling incoherently to herself. "Don't you remember your true name? The one your parents granted you?" The boy shook his head, and Daen went back to her pacing. He didn't see what the big deal was. Half-breed seemed all right to him. He was one, after-all. _

_She finally stopped pacing, and turned to stare at him. He shifted uncomfortably, but didn't break eye contact. There was something disturbing in her stare. _

"_All these years there was no hope," she whispered, a look that resembled awe and disbelief on her face, "and now this child. A hybrid, but a saiyan nonetheless." She walked up to him slowly, and held his chin firmly as she knelt down once again. As she began to speak, he knew he would never forget her next words._

"_You may not remember who you are, or where you are from. But I can tell you this; You will become great and powerful, and you will live on in the hearts of many, including my own." Her eyes were sad yet fierce as she said these words, and if he didn't know better, he would say she was smiling. But that was impossible. No one here ever smiled. "Your road will be hard, and you may die in the end, but it will be an honorable death. Know that you have my support, and that there are allies in the most unexpected places." She finally let go of his face, and stepped away from him. The boy could only stare at her. He had no idea what she had said, or why she had said it. He was only seven, maybe eight years old, nothing special, and this woman just told him he would be something great with a look of.. of… _admiration_ on her face. There was nothing he could do but stare._

"_You are a mystery," she said, a smirk and humor back on her face. "A lone saiyan child in the land of despair." A bark of laughter followed her words, as if enjoying a private joke. He certainly didn't get it. But then her narrowed eyes fastened to his, and her next words held no humor. "Your name is not Half-breed, and I never want to hear you call yourself that again." He nodded, feet coming together and hands immediately at his sides. This was no longer the strange person who had told an even stranger tale of power and glory. This was his new commanding officer, and he had to respect her orders. "It is demeaning, not only to one as powerful as you, but to other mixed races. From now on, I and the rest of the Eighth Division shall call you… Mystic."_

_He bowed. "I humbly accept this new name, Commander, and bear it with pride."_

"_Good. I shall expect you in Maeld Hall at the twenty-second hour. You shall have to be acquainted with the rest of the division."_

"_I shall be there, Commander," he said respectfully, bowing once again. She nodded, and again that strange, sad smile flitted across her face as she looked at him. But he must have imagined it, as she walked towards the door._

"_Oh and Mystic, one more thing."_

"_Yes, Commander?"_

"_Cut your hair. Long is nice, but it has no place on the battlefield."_

"_I shall see to that immediately, Commander."  
_

* * *

Goku sensed the instant Mystic lost consciousness, if the sudden and dangerous dip in his ki level was anything to go by. Before Chichi could even ask what the matter was, he was already out the door and headed towards the forest where he had last felt the saiyan. The ki was now so low he couldn't even sense it, and Goku hoped to Kami that Bulma wasn't incorrect in her calculations so that instead of draining him the blockers actually _killed_ him.

Suddenly something collided with Goku, catching him off guard and sending him sprawling on the forest floor. Whatever it was, it was small, latched around his waist in a death grip and mumbling frantically into his stomach.

"Goten?" he asked. He had been so intent on finding Mystic that he hadn't even sensed Goten's presence in the forest. Guilt flushed his face, followed closely by fear. If Chichi heard that Goten had been alone in a forest with their new house guest… Oh, was he in trouble. He shook his thoughts away from his inevitable doom, and focused on the task at hand. Finding Mystic, and get him to explain why he wanted to remove the blockers after his warnings.

"Goten," he said softly, carefully unwrapping his son's arms from around him and setting the boy in front of him. Goten's face was wet with tears, and he was still muttering indecipherable phrases and sniffing. Goku's face darkened for a moment. Whatever that saiyan had done to his son, he was going to pay. "Goten, do you know where he is?" Goten sniffed and nodded, pointing just behind him. Goku noticed the boy's hand was slightly bruised, and his anger at the young saiyan grew.

With Goten's help, the saiyan was easy to find. He was curled up on the dirt, wrists pressed tightly to his chest. His face seemed to be frozen in pain, and Goku felt bitter satisfaction. Goten was hurt, however slightly, and the young man before him had just tried to remove his blockers after being warned. _He got what he deserved_, Goku thought. There was the faint sound of breathing, and he knew the young man was alive. And when he woke up, there would be hell to pay.

"I'm sorry," said Goten. Goku looked sharply at his son. The boy was looking at the unconscious saiyan on the ground sadly, and when his son met his eyes Goku saw guilt on his face.

"Goten," he said slowly, his earlier assumptions falling away, "what happened?"

Goten gulped, his eyes continuously flicking back and forth from his father to Mystic. "I didn't mean to!" he almost shouted, panic clearly visible in his face and voice. "He looked sad and so I went to talk to him and I wanted to play a game and he said no and I said why and he said he couldn't cause you guys put those metalthingiesonhishandsandhecouldn'tplayuntiltheywereoffandthen," Goten's words picked up speed and pitch until Goku could barely decipher what he was saying. But one thing he got from Goten's words: This wasn't Mystic's fault. Goku felt uneasy and guilty at this revelation. Here he was making assumptions without even taking the time to second guess or give the benefit of a doubt, thinking vicious thoughts and taking satisfaction from the young man's pain…

A tugging at his pants distracted him from his self-loathing thoughts, and he looked down to see his son's tear-stained face. "Dad, is he gonna be okay?" Goku sighed, and walked over to Mystic, picking him up from the ground.

"Yeah Goten, he'll be okay." His son smiled in relief, and he walked happily beside his father as they made their way back to the house.

"Good, cause I want to tell him I'm sorry." Goku smiled down at his son as he shifted the surprisingly light load in his arms. _You and me both, Goten_, he thought.

The young man in front of him finally began to stir, and Goku found himself marveling, not for the first time, Bulma's uncanny calculations.

"_Don't worry, Goku, he'll wake up in five hours on the dot. He probably won't feel like doing anything but laying down for about a day, but at least he'll be awake." _

Goku had also asked Bulma for advice on how to convince Chichi to, if not take off the blockers entirely, then to at least lessen the grip they had on the saiyan's ki. If there was one thing Bulma knew better then her creations, it was the mind of his wife.

"_Sorry, but you know how stubborn she is, Goku. All you can do is wait and perhaps show her how harmless he really is._"

Goku doubted _that_ would happen anytime soon. Though he was certain Mystic wouldn't hurt them, he wasn't 'harmless' by any means.

A hand rose, breaking Goku from his thoughts to once more focus on the person lying in the bed he had left just that morning. The hand fell on his face, as if he didn't have the strength to keep it risen any longer, and covered his eyes. A loud groan could be heard, and Goku grimaced in sympathy. Since this experience wasn't life threatening, he hadn't seen the need to give Mystic one of their few senzu beans. The young man was probably feeling the bruised bones in his wrists, the feeling of weakness from loss of ki, and – another groan – a pounding headache.

"Am I dead?" he mumbled, and Goku couldn't help but grin. At least his sense of humor was intact.

"No, you're still alive."

"Course I am, there's too much pain for me to be dead." His hand rubbed the corners of his eyes, a futile gesture to relieve his headache, no doubt. "Then again, this is nothing compared to what I thought I'd wake up with this morning." Goku's grin faltered a bit at the words. Images flashed before his mind of a young man covered in blood, unconscious and barely clinging to life, and the irrational fear and hatred that had followed after learning of the man's heritage. He felt the words rising in his throat, burning a hole in his mouth as they tried to escape. "What happened?" he wanted to ask. What could possibly have happened for that much damage to occur? But he stubbornly swallowed those words. Mystic said he wouldn't hurt this planet, so there was no real need for Goku to know his past.

_Right now, anyway._

"Goten wanted to apologize," he said instead. "He was really upset and shaken about what happened. He'd never seen the ki blockers before, and didn't know what they would do. He also likes to play, and when you told him it was a game to get them off, well," he shrugged, as if to say 'What can you do?'

"Heh," Mystic managed to get out before another groan escaped and he increased the pressure of his finger massage. "Tell the little brat I forgive him. I guess it was kind of my fault for tricking him like that. But lesson learned. I'm not letting that kid get within ten feet of me if I can help it."

Goku chuckled. Goten could be a bit of a handful at the best of times. Maybe Chichi's rant to their son earlier about avoiding their house guest wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"How long until I'm able to see straight?" asked the saiyan, his eyes remaining closed.

"I don't really know. You're actually the first person we've put into those." He chose to ignore the murmured "Don't I feel lucky." "You're our guinea pig. But my friend Bulma, the one who made those, guesses that you'll be stuck in bed for about a day and then you'll be up and about."

"Great, more sleep," he muttered. He dared to open one eye and the bloodshot orb focused on Goku in the dim light. "At least your mate will be happy that I'm not up and about causing havoc."

Goku briefly wondered if he should tell the young man that Chichi at first had been happy that the saiyan proved to be a danger, but had flipped in a flash when she learned the real story. She had yelled at Goten for hurting another person, especially a house guest. Chichi was not as heartless when it came to their guest as Mystic seemed to perceive.

_Better not tell him. Otherwise how will he stay on his toes?_

"Get some rest, Mystic," Goku said, getting up from his chair and heading to the door. He thought he heard Mystic say "Like I'm going to do anything else," but since he wasn't paying attention he couldn't be sure. At the door he paused, and looked back at the young man on the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing mellowing out. For one crazy moment, he wanted to walk over and place his hand on his shoulder and promise him he would get better soon, like he'd often done to Goten when he was sick.

He shook his head and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. _Guess it's just the caring in me_, he mused as he walked to the kitchen in search of dinner leftovers. Food was never far from the thoughts of a saiyan. But even as pork and rice invaded his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling he'd had in the doorway.

* * *

A/N: I guess one good thing came from my meltdown: Daen! After finding my old notes and creating a new outline, she's actually several small significant characters in Mystic/Gohan's life all wrapped up into one. Those little flashbacks will be interspersed between chapters whenever I feel like it or when something significant happens. That or I couldn't find enough otherwise to write:p. The next chapter is well on it's way to being written, thrown out, rewritten, edited, rewritten again, then posted. That is my usual way of writing:p, which is also why I take so long sometimes.

Oh, and always:

_**REVIEW!!!**_


	6. Nothing Like Him

A/N: Heya! Here it is, Chapter 5. This was a pain in the ass to right, I'll have you know. I fractured my arm, so I mostly had to type this with one hand, which took FOREVER!!! So you may notice that this chapter may not flow as well as the others did. But you don't want to wait any longer, and I don't want you to wait any longer, so here it is!

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 5 – Nothing Like Him**

She had dreamed of Gohan that night.

It wasn't the first time it had happened. It wasn't even the hundredth. But each time left her as shaken as the last. Most of the time she dreamed of that day Krillen had come to her to say that Goku had died and that some _monster_ had taken her child away. Sometimes she dreamed she was actually there when it happened, and could just imagine how terrified her little boy had been. But every now and then, Gohan came to her himself.

No matter how much time had passed, Gohan was always five years old in her dreams because that was the last she had seen him. A few times he would blame her for what had happened, asking why she hadn't kept him home that day, or why she couldn't have done more to get him back. Other times he was silent while she cried her heart out, repeating over and over again how sorry she was until she awoke with the dawn. She knew that Goku also dreamed of their son, and Kami only knew how terrible his were in comparison to hers. And he knew that she had dreams. But they never spoke of them to each other, and simply dealt with them in their own ways.

But last night's dream had been different. Gohan had come to her again, his little self wearing the red hat with the four star dragonball on top, black eyes wide and innocent, his tail trailing along behind him twitching every now and then. As soon as he was recognizable to her, she knew this was not like her other dreams. Her little boy, whom she had not seen in the flesh for thirteen years… was smiling.

Her precious child told her that he was finally safe, and he would never get hurt again. He said he was all grown up and just as strong and proud as his father. In his childish voice he went on to say that he didn't know if he'd ever get to see them again, or if they would ever recognize him should he do so, but he went on to reassure her that he was okay. The bad men that had kept him from her were gone now, and he could finally be happy, that he was finally free.

When she woke up, she was in tears. She always cried after one of her dreams, and however different this one was, it was no exception. But instead of crying out of sorrow or self-pity, there was almost a manic joy leaking through her eyes. Her baby said he was safe. He said he could be happy. And she sincerely hoped, with all her heart, that it was true.

But as she went downstairs to make breakfast, her joy slowly seeped out of her as she was reminded that her family was no longer the only ones who lived here.

It was unusually quiet that morning, but that was almost to be expected. Goten had chosen to spend the night with his friend Trunks Brief at Capsule Corp., and his energetic presence was a noticeable absence that morning. So now it was just her, her husband, and _him_. Oh, she knew he couldn't possibly be the one who took her child away, or even be one of the saiyans that killed their friends barely a year later, but that didn't stop her from hating him.

At the moment he was just sitting at her kitchen table, back straight, arms folded across his chest, and staring straight forward, although it seemed he was lost more in thought than actually seeing anything. Her husband was sitting across from him, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table, hands behind his head with his eyes closed and humming cheerfully under his breath.

A month had passed since her husband had dragged their "guest" into their lives, and she had not been happy at all. Oh, she knew the main reason she hated him was because he was a saiyan, and she knew it was an irrational hatred, since said saiyan had never done anything to her. She couldn't forget that she and her best friend, Bulma, were married to saiyans, either. But she didn't know him, didn't know what he'd done in his life, how many lives he'd destroyed, didn't know how much humanity, if any, was inside him. Considering saiyan nature, she felt fully inclined to hate him until he proved otherwise.

Then there were the minor reasons. He admitted to them that English was not his first language, and she and Goku had corrected him on some slips here and there. But perfectly fluent or not, that man had a gutter mouth on him a mile wide. Any conversation longer than five minutes with him almost guaranteed an expletive or two. And his influence was starting to rub off on Goten. She had caught him saying he'd stepped in "lizard shit," and her youngest child had spent the next two hours sitting on the kitchen counter with a sore butt and a bar of soap in his mouth, while she screamed herself hoarse at the source of the bad language.

His attitude was another problem. He walked around as if he owned the house, calling her "Goku's mate," "harpy," and plenty of other things, while her son he constantly deemed as "brat". If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn Vegeta had cloned himself, even if this version was much taller then the original. If he wasn't off in the forests doing whatever it was he did (she often referred to it as "plotting"), he was complaining without stop about his ki blockers and when he would get them off. "It's unfair, I never did anything to you, what makes you the judge of me, blah blah blah." It was starting to wear down her patience.

His appearance irritated her as well. No matter what clothes she gave him, he somehow managed to look like a hooligan. His posture, his hair, the way he wore his clothes, all of them screamed, "Troublemaker!"

Last, and probably least, was his name. _Mystic_. Goku had told her how he had hesitated before giving his name, as if he couldn't remember. Chichi thought he made it up, most likely to avoid some intergalactic law enforcement out for his tail. If he was going to try to blend in, why not take a good Earth name? Like Ryo, or Jiro, or Kaemon, Goro..

_Or Gohan…_

She shook her head fiercely, knowing that neither of the men behind her were paying attention. No no NO! There was no way that _thing_ was going to take her baby's name. He was too arrogant, too cruel, too stupid to deserve such a name. Her child was strong and proud and kind, and if her dream was to be believed, finally safe.

She shook her head once again and forced her thoughts away from her son and to the problem at hand; the saiyan.

Over a month here and already getting on her nerves. He couldn't stay here forever, no matter what her overly-cheerful husband said about getting used to him. If Goku still felt an obligation to watch over him for any troublesome behavior, then that was fine. But not day after day, week after week, month after month, or, she feared, year after year. Her sanity couldn't take much more of this. He may not have been the saiyan to take her child, but his presence was enough of a reminder to hurt her. He needed to get out and away from them, even if it was for a week and he came back on the weekends. As long as he was gone on a job or just gone, she would feel better.

Her thoughts whirled as she finished making breakfast, trying to think of the best way to approach the subject. As she set the food down on the table (enough to feed a small army for the day), she decided to just say it outright. No sense beating around the bush, especially if this dummy couldn't pick up on tiny hints.

"So," she started eloquently, as she sat down at the table with her own plate of food, "what are you going to do now, _Mystic_?"

He glanced over at her briefly, midnight eyes peering out from under his dark hair. His eyebrows knit together in confusion before he managed to smooth his face down to a blank mask. She narrowed her eyes minutely. _What does he have to hide to practice a face like that?_

"What do you mean?" he muttered as he began chewing his food. She refrained from rolling her eyes and muttering "idiot", and instead put on a smile and answered his question, however stupid it might have been.

"Well, you've been here for over a month." _One month, two weeks, two days, thirteen hours and forty-eight minutes._ "And by the looks of your space pod, you won't be leaving any time soon." Goku had taken the young saiyan out to the scene of the crash about three weeks ago. From what she'd managed to learn, the pod had hit one meteor too many and was incredibly risky to attempt to ride to another planet. That he'd managed to make it all the way to Earth was a miracle (in their opinion). "I'm sure that you're starting to get tired of us, and don't plan to stay here forever." _Kami, help me if I have to take much more of this_. "So, what is it you plan to do while you stay on Earth?"

He stopped eating, a remarkable task for a saiyan, and leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful look on his face. She continued eating, not bothering to hold her breath. _With his primitive brain it will probably take him a week to figure out was two plus two is._ She knew she was being mean, but didn't care. Although her husband hadn't stopped shoving rice into the black hole he called a mouth, the slowed pace alerted her to the fact that he was also interested in the saiyan's answer.

"I don't know," he finally answered. "What is it humans do with their free time?"

"They get a job," she said before she could stop herself. Goku shot her a look but she ignored it. What was said was said.

"A job?" he asked, an eyebrow raised as he continued to eat his breakfast. No matter how interesting a conversation was, one could never tear a saiyan from his food long. "Like what kind of job?"

"Oh, all sorts of jobs," she responded half-heartedly. Inside she was cheering. _Yes, YES! If he's interested enough I can finally get him out of my hair!_ "People get jobs to earn money so they can live in whatever lifestyle they want. With your physique and… er… lack of understanding of human culture, you could easily get a job doing hard labor, like construction or some such."

"And everyone has a job?" he asked.

"Yes, at least one person in a family has a job."

"You don't," he said, "neither does he," he pointed to Goku. "And unless this planet enforces child labor, I don't think your brat has one either." Chichi sipped her tea, while she was really wishing she could grind her teeth. He was more perceptive then she'd thought.

"Well, we're an exception," she conceded. "We have enough money that we don't need to have a job. However, for a young man hoping to find his _own _way through life, it's best to start out with a _job_." She purposely stressed out the words own and job, hoping he caught the hint. His eyes narrowed above the rice bowl in his face. Oh yes, he caught it.

"Now hold on a minute, Chichi," Goku managed to say around a mouthful of food. She grimaced in disgust. Her husband sometimes… "A job isn't the only thing he has available to him. There are other things."

"Like?" asked the young man.

above the rice bowl in his face. Oh yes, he caught it.

"Now hold on a minute, Chichi," Goku managed to say around a mouthful of food. She grimaced in disgust. Her husband sometimes… "A job isn't the only thing he has available to him. There are other things."

"Like?" asked the young man.

_Yeah, like?_ She thought.

"Well, how old are you, Mystic?" he asked. Chichi blinked in surprise. What did his age have to do with anything?

"I'm approximately two-hundred and thirty-nine Ludaki rotations old," he said immediately.

Chichi was relieved to see that Goku was also shocked. What was that supposed to mean?

"Um, okay…" muttered her husband. "Mystic, do you know what a year is?" The young saiyan shook his head. "A year is one of Earth's complete rotations around the sun." Mystic nodded in understanding. "Do you know what a day is?" Again, a no. "An hour? A minute? A second?" He finally nodded at the last one, and Goku almost sighed in relief that he wouldn't have to explain a second. "Sixty seconds are in a minute, and sixty minutes are in an hour. Twenty-four hours are in a day, and three-hundred and sixty-five days is one Earth year. So, going by that system, how old are you in Earth years?"

Mystic looked up to the ceiling as he concentrated. Grudgingly Chichi admitted that it was rather difficult to convert with measurements like that, brute or no. She stood up from the table, trying to remember where they kept their calculators.

"In Earth years I'm probably seventeen or eighteen," the saiyan answered crisply before Chichi had managed to make it to the drawers. Both she and Goku stared at him in amazement. He was able to convert his age from one system to another in under a minute?

_Gohan would be this smart_, a secret part of her mind whispered, but she quickly squashed the thought. This beast was **nothing** like her son.

Overcoming his shock, Goku smiled. "Well in that case, a job isn't the only thing you could do. You could also go to school."

"School?" he asked, the confused look reappearing on his face. Chichi didn't blame him. She could hardly believe the suggestion either. What was Goku thinking, sending him to a school?

"Yeah, a school. Humans between the ages of five and eighteen are usually sent to school, a place for them to learn. They can learn how to read, write, cook, play sports, learn how to do arts and math. They also learn what they need to live after they leave the school and their parents. And for you, you can learn all sorts of things about Earth so you're able to fit in better," Goku explained enthusiastically. Chichi wasn't so thrilled. Sending a thing like him to a school of Earth kids? What was Goku thinking? He'd end up hurting them, or start showing off his powers and risk the secrecy of the Z-fighters, or worse, he could end up ANNIHILATING whatever city they sent him to.

Then again, she thought, wasn't that the same as letting him get a job? He could do the exact same thing no matter where he was. Besides, if they sent him to a school instead of the workplace, he would be in a place of learning and logic, and any odd things he did would be reasoned away, while around other adults superstitions ran wild. And who knows, he may be able to pick up some decency from being around human peers.

"How long would I have to be at this school?" Mystic asked curiously. _Good, at least he seems more interested in this then the job idea._ Chichi decided to take over from Goku, as he was, once again, gulping down food.

"Judging by your age, probably no longer than a year. Two at the very most. The school year has already started, and you know little to nothing about Earth… but I'm sure with the help of one of our friends, you can easily get into one of the most prestigious schools in the nation."

"Wha' fren?" Goku asked through a mouthful of eggs and ham. Chichi rolled her eyes at the utterly ridiculous sight. If she didn't know better, she would have thought their house guest did the same.

"You know, Goku, our friend who lives in the city? Our very important friend who is very rich, very intelligent and has connections to other very important people all over the world? The first friend you ever had?"

"Oh!" Goku exclaimed. "Right, Bulma. I'm sure she'd love to help get you into school. Actually, she may be able to get you into the school near CC, since I've heard that's where she wants to send Trunks when he gets old enough. And if she does, you might actually have to stay with her and Vegeta for a while so you don't have to travel so far."

Chichi could swear the saiyan's eyes had widened a bit at the name of Vegeta, but then again she couldn't be sure, since his face went back to it's blank mask in a matter of seconds. For all she knew, his eyes could have widened at the part about staying with someone else.

"So, if I were to do this school thing, I'd have to go to a place filled with humans and live with this Bulma and Vegeta, right?" Chichi thought his nonchalance was a little over-played. Goku, however, didn't seem to pick up on it, as he nodded a yes. Mystic was quiet for a few minutes before shrugging and returning to his now cold breakfast. "I guess I could do that."

Chichi couldn't help but smile as she too began finishing her food. After a month with this thorn in her side, she was finally rid of him! Now it was off to Bulma's house for him, and school where he would learn how to act like a real human being. Ah, life was sweet.

_Gohan would be seventeen, _came the traitorous voice. _My son would be all grown up and off to school, making friends, acing classes, and having fun. _

_No! _she screamed back. _This beast is nothing like my son. Gohan was a precious boy, he would never hurt a fly. Goku and I raised him to be a good person, a decent person. He was already so smart at five years old, and as polite as he could be. This person is a dog, a dangerous monkey waiting for the right time to strike. What good person is found bleeding to death in a space pod?! This saiyan was cruel, stupid and brutish. No way can he **ever** compare to my Gohan._

_Goku and I didn't raise him,_ it whispered again, a persistent edge to it. _Thirteen years is enough to change a person entirely into something unrecognizable. He even said in the dream that we may not recognize him if we saw him._

_That's because he wouldn't be a five-year-old boy, he'd be a –_

_Seventeen year old man._

Her fork made a loud clattering sound as it fell on her plate. Goku shot her a concerned look, but she shook her head to reassure him she was fine. She took her dish to the sink, washed it clean and then walked to her bedroom. She would clean the other dishes later. Right now, she needed to think, and calm down.

_I don't care how close in age they are, or how much they look alike, or how much a person can change over the years. _

She reached her room and walked to her bed, blindly falling onto it as she buried her head in the dark covers.

_It's only because he's a saiyan and the way he showed up that has me thinking these thoughts,_ she told herself. _How many times have I gone to the store and thought that young man behind the counter could be my long lost son? And the dream last night certainly didn't help things. But he can't be him. It's all coincidence. There's nothing unarguable, no solid proof of anything. He can't be Gohan._

_Please don't let him be Gohan._

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked it. Tell me if you like this new direction I'm going in, or if it's going in the direction of disaster.

_**REVIEW!!!**_

Please?


	7. Stupid

A/N: I'm not even going to try to explain here why I'm late. If you want to know, explanation's at the bottom. If not, **READ AWAY!  
**

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**Chapter Six - Stupid **

"Who wrote the Art of War?"

"Paolen Harcoft."

"Wrong." Chichi huffed in irritation as she made another mark on her pad of paper. Bulma had managed to give Chichi an Orange Star High admittance test yesterday, and for the past three hours Chichi and Mystic had been going over every question. So far, he'd gotten every single one wrong. "It's Sun Tzu."

"Maybe on this planet," he muttered. Chichi glared at him. That was one of his three main answers. "I don't know," was his most frequent. A made up date was a close second for those questions that applied. And every once in a while, when he did answer seriously, he'd follow up with a "Maybe on this planet."

Chichi took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It wouldn't do to lose control right now. They had been through History, Languages, Law, Art, and now they were on Literature. There was only Math and Science to go and then she would be finished with him for the night. Besides, there was only one question left, one so easy that even _he_ should get it. Even Goku could answer this question.

"Name one famous play written by William Shakespeare." She held her pencil up, waiting for him to answer.

"I don't know."

"Argh!" she yelled, the pencil cracking in her hand as her fist clenched. That's it! That was it! How could she expect to be around someone so… so…!

"STUPID!" she yelled, jumping up from the chair she was on and pacing around the room, barely aware of what she was doing. "You are so stupid! Forget Orange Star High, no high school would accept someone as hopeless as you. No school AT ALL would accept someone as stupid and worthless! You can't read, you can't write, you can't answer questions a _child_ could answer any day of the week, and yet you walk around as if you were the king of the house, like you were better then everyone and we're the lower life forms. Well you know what, _Mystic_?" she spat, finally stopping in front of him, her eyes wild and hair falling from her usually immaculate bun, "You aren't better then anyone else, in fact, you're lower then everyone else! You're nothing but a dirty, brutish, murdering _**ape!**_"

A ringing silence followed her final word, one so profound that not even Chichi's panting could disrupt it. After finishing her rant she half expected the young saiyan before her to rise and start shouting as well. Yell and scream and break her things, because that was the sort of thing stupid monkeys did. But he didn't. Instead he sat where he had before, with barely a change to how he had been before she'd begun yelling. But there was a change. Chichi could see that now.

Before, when they had been going over the exam bit by bit, his eyes, though fixed on her, were bored and distant. Now they were firmly in the here and now, and the look in those eyes seemed to steal her breath from her lungs. They were cold and merciless, and she could feel goosebumps rising along her arms. For an instant, she wanted to take back what she said,

_No, you can't take it back, never take it back! He is stupid and filthy and a killer and he deserved it, he deserved it all! He's the kind who stole my baby away and his kind doesn't deserve to be treated right!_

take it all back and apologize, but it was too late now. What was said was said, and no amount of pleading could make her words go away.

After a moment of their silent staring, Mystic reached for the pad of paper on the table, the one Chichi had been using moments earlier to record his progress on the exam. He tore the paper she had just been writing on, and the sheet almost immediately began to turn to ashes in his hand. If that were any indication as to how he felt at this moment, especially with the ki blockers still in place... Chichi swallowed hard. He grabbed the half of what remained of her pencil that still had the tip on it, and began to write. Chichi was baffled as to what he was doing, but was slightly curious at the same time.

A minute, maybe two passed before he finally placed the pencil and pad down, tearing out the sheet he had written on. He rose and strode over to where she was standing. He seemed relaxed and almost casual, but Chichi had seen enough horror movies and read enough crime books to know that it was anything but. This was a predator's walk, and she was his prey. It took every ounce of control she had not to shrink away.

"Tell me, _human_," he said, purposely drawing out the last word, "can you read any of this?" He shoved the paper into her hands, and she grabbed it before it could fall to the floor.

There were obviously three different languages or codes written on the paper. The top one was a series of dots and squiggles with no definable pattern or break to signify different words. The second was a bunch of circles. Some were large, about the size of a quarter, while others were just a dot, as if he'd just tapped the paper with his pencil. Some of the dots were colored in while others were blank, and even the shades of those colored were different. Other circles had patterns inside them, lines or crosses or more circles. The third set was symbols not unlike Japanese characters, but she was unable to read any of them.

"Can you read it?" he snapped again, breaking her attention from the paper. Speechless, she shook her head, wondering where this was going. He smiled, taking the paper away from her frozen hands, but there was no humor on his lips. His eyes remained still and heartless.

"Really, Mrs. Son? You can't read any of these?" he gestured to the paper again, but clearly wasn't expecting an answer. "How very… _stupid_ of you. You see, Mrs. Son, this language here," he pointed to the first section, the one that was all squiggles and dots, "is the universal language. The language that all connected planets must learn in order to communicate between other planets. This one here," he said, pointing to the circles, "is the second most popular language in the universe, and one that a great personal friend of mine wrote and spoke in. And now this last one, this one is very special. I suspect there are only two, or perhaps I alone, can write this language, or even speak it. Do you know what this language is, _Mrs. Son_?"

Dumbly, Chichi turned her head from side to side. Oh, if only she'd kept her mouth shut, then they would almost be done with this dreaded paper and then they wouldn't have had to talk to each other the rest of the day.

Mystic grinned, and his eyes blazed with what looked like triumph, but only managed to make his face seem almost demonic, or inhuman, and Chichi fought the urge to flinch. "This is the saiyan word, Mrs. Son. The written language of my people. The same people who were slaughtered by a creature who also called us monkeys and _apes_," he sneered, emphasizing the word she had last spoken.

"Now, I know you don't know that much about me. That's understandable, considering you've never asked. But you should know that before I arrived here I had never heard of planet Earth. I learned to speak Japanese only because my commanding officer, for whatever reason, saw fit to teach me how to speak it, but not to write it. I was in space, Mrs. Son, millions and billions of miles or possibly even light years away, and yet you seem to expect that out in the far reaches of space that we would know the history of a tiny piss-ant country on some small backwater planet? Are your writers so graceful, so undeniably ingenious, that only they could have written famous works in the galaxy? I have read many Arts of War, or War Arts, or other such titles from hundreds of planets. I know war dates between planets or solar systems, not countries on any single planet. I know Planet Vegeta's history, but that is only because I am saiyan myself.

"I may not know how to read or write your language, but it is nothing impossible. General or common knowledge will come in time. And any planet's meaningless facts can be remembered all too easily."

He straightened up, and just like that all humor or manic glee in his face was gone. For all that remained now, his features may just as well have been set in stone. He picked up the piece of paper that Chichi had unknowingly dropped, looked at it for a moment, then calmly folded it and placed it in his pocket. He turned and walked to the doorway of the kitchen, but before he left he stopped, and turned his head, managing to catch Chichi's eye.

"I may not be the highest life form in this universe, but I am far from nothing, as you so _eloquently_ put it, Mrs. Son." And with that parting statement, he left the room.

Chichi let out a sigh she was unaware of holding. That was… that definitely was…

_Scary…_

Frightening, to say the least. The only thing that kept her from screaming for Goku was her dignity, and the knowledge that the young saiyan still had the wristbands on his arms and would be incapable of inflicting irreparable harm before Goku managed to show up and save the day.

Not to mention the fact that if she had called Goku, she would have had to explain what had caused this to happen, and that's what hurt, wasn't it? That it hadn't been Mystic's fault, but hers. All her fault that this had happened. He was trying to take a test about things he'd never heard of before, had no way of knowing the answers to these questions, and had she ever considered that? No! She just went off on him, calling him stupid and worthless and… everything she knew would hurt him. One couldn't be around Vegeta long before they knew that words such as ape, monkey or filthy were incredible insulting when it came to the saiyans.

Chichi sighed again, and walked over to the table where the test still sat, unmarked. The boy wasn't stupid, as she had irrationally thought. He was

_Smart._

intelligent in his own way, and was right when he said it would be easy to learn the necessary information before he went to school. She sat down, picked up the other half of her pencil, sharpened it, and began to fill in some of the answers correctly. '_Wouldn't want to make him look too smart, now would we?_'

* * *

Mystic was beyond upset. He was _furious_.

He knew better then to stay in the house. Ki blocks or no, he knew he was going to do something which he may or may not regret later, and the further he was away from _her_, the better.

With every ounce of his will he kept his rage bottled inside, just like so many times before. His face betrayed nothing, smooth and blank, eyes staring straight ahead. He ignored the brat's call from the living room, begging him to play. He quickly and easily avoided running into Goku, who would surely have stopped and questioned him on his odd behavior. Soon he was out the door, and it was open. The next thing he knew he wasn't walking but running towards the forest he had visited on his first conscious day on this pathetic planet.

He stopped to rest once he was deep inside the trees. He couldn't even see the Son house anymore, the thick trunks and branches blocking the way. He was panting heavily, but not from the running. The rage was slowly but surely leaking through despite his attempts to rear it back in, years of control slipping out of his grasp. Since coming on to this planet he hadn't yet had a chance to properly vent like he'd been able to before, and now all the pent up anger and frustration was added to tonight's little disaster, which was bad enough on its own. He made one last effort to pull himself together.

_Let it go_, his mind whispered. He took one shuddering gasp, and obeyed.

Immediately he swirled around, arm raised, and drove his fist into a nearby tree. Fueled by his anger and general strength, he left a good sized dent in its bark, but because of the lack of ki in his body, pain seemed to explode in his hand. The pain only added more wood to the blazing fire of rage inside him.

How _dare_ that bitch call him stupid? What right did that miserable excuse for a creature have to call him worthless (_punch_), hopeless (_punch_), a lowlife (_punch_)? She didn't even know him (_punch_), rarely even called him by his name. He was always boy (_punch_), or saiyan (_punch_), and always, always with a look of disgust on her otherwise attractive features.

But worst of all, the one thing she could have said to drive him over the edge that made his eyes see red. She (_punch_) had (_punch_) said (_punch_) **ape**.

"_And why shouldn't she, that human?_" hissed a reptilian voice. "_All saiyans are apes._"

Mystic's dark eyes widened. His heart felt as if it had stopped dead in his chest, and he whirled around, eyes and as many senses as he could use searching through the trees for the owner of that voice. That voice he knew all too well.

"_You were all filthy, rotten monkeys_," said the voice, amusement dripping from the words. "_Barely evolved enough to understand higher life forms, I did your race a favor eliminating them. They embarrassed themselves with their primitiveness, and weren't intelligent enough to even realize it._"

With a gasp he realized the voice was inside his head. The words were nothing new, a memory from ages ago, it seemed. But to come now, to hear that voice again after all that had happened, was enough to set his nerves on edge.

"No, no, no," he muttered, bringing his hands to his ears as if that would stop the voice. "You can't be talking, you can't be, your dead."

"_Stupid saiyan,_" Frieza jeered, clearly taking delight in the warrior's pain. "_Worthless half-breed_."

His hands still over his ears he knelt on the ground, eyes shut, continuously muttering, "Stop, stop, stop. Go away, go away."

"_The saiyans were a disgrace_."

"No."

"_Blood-thirsty. Mindless_."

"Stop."

"_They were driving themselves into extinction. I merely beat them to it._"

"Shut up."

"_You should be thanking me. Imagine what you could have grown up to be…_"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The voice stopped. He opened his eyes cautiously, as if half-expecting Frieza to be standing right in front of him, mocking him with that infuriating smile. But there was no one. He was still alone. He lowered his hands, and only now realized they were throbbing with pain from the punches. Still sitting on the ground he flexed his hands, wincing at the sharp pains that ran all the way from his fingertips to his elbow. Definitely a few broken bones. The skin across his knuckles had been torn away, and if he closed his fist he could see a few of the bones through the tissue.

Damn ki blockers.

He huffed in disgust at his own weakness, however forced it was. Any other time he would have been able to shred these trees with his little finger and not even break a sweat. Any other time, he would have been able to get a firm grip on his own emotions, his own reactions. A human or any other such creature should not have been able to get under his skin.

He scooted towards the nearest tree (one that bore numerous marks of his broken fists) and lent against it, breathing in and out, trying to cool the simmering emotions still inside him. Now that he had managed to vent a little, he found it much easier to calm down then he had before. Of course, he was still angry, but the emotions were under his control now. He lent his head against the tree and closed his eyes.

_I can't stay here any longer_.

_Well that's pretty obvious._

_This was a close call. Too close. If I hadn't left when I did…_

_I doubt you'd be sitting here right now, that's for sure. _

_Not that she wouldn't have deserved it._

_Hey now-_

_She would have. Calling my stupid just because I don't know her puny planet's history. Wonder what she'd call me if I didn't speak her language._

_Wouldn't matter, because you wouldn't understand it._

_Minor detail. The point is, she had no right._

_Absolutely. I mean, can you imagine her up in Frieza's ship?_

_She'd be dead in a week._

_More like a day._

_Most likely pregnant. _

_True… I think she did go a bit far with the a-_

_None of that now._

_Alright. So now what?_

_Give me a few more minutes. I'm trying to calm down._

_I thought you were._

_On the outside. Need to calm the inside so that I don't accidentally blow up. I don't know how much linger I can stay here._

_Well, we meet their friends in two days, and if all goes well you'll be staying with them._

_I can only hope. The sooner I get out of here, the better. For both of us._

With a last intake of breath, Mystic opened his eyes and rose from the floor, casually brushing leaves and twigs from his clothes. As he wandered back to the house, he half-heartedly tried to think of excuses for his broken and bloody hands.

* * *

A/N: Tada! Filler really, but this DOES lead to something, trust me.

Okay: **THE REASON**: I had the chapter all written out. I was on a long family trip in the car, so I brought my laptop with me to write on the way there. Because I switch between computers often, I kept the file on a PIN drive. Well, apparently, if you have a clumsy brother, who happened to knock your laptop to the floor with the PIN drive sticking out of it, chances are the drive would break. And it did. Into four tiny irreplaceable pieces. I could have strangled the little bugger. Needless to say when I got home I checked the other computers for what I had saved there, and the most I could recover was four paragraphs. Hardly worth it. So I rewrote, reluctantly, because I don't know if this has ever happened to any of you, but completely rewriting a big thing sucks. I finally rewrote it, and it's completely different from the other one I had, but it's okay, because that'll be next chapter.

And I **graduate** in two weeks, so more time to write away!!!

Until the next update, review!!!


	8. Don't be Afraid, Vegeta

A/N: This one's a doozie! 11 pages?! That must be a record for a fanfiction of mine! (Attempted novels don't count.) Anyway, it's this long because well, I love Vegeta. He's my third favorite character in DBZ (right after Gohan and Piccolo) and I can understand where he's coming from most of the time. Remember though, this fic is AU, Alternative Universe, which means that though some things are the same, not everything is, so don't get all upset and flustered because I "_did something wrong". _I didn't, and if I did, then I won't admit to it. Got it? Okay.

This chapter is in Vegeta's POV.

* * *

**Chapter Seven – Don't be Afraid, Vegeta**

"Veggie, does this dress make my hips look big?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, not even bothering to comment. Either way he'd be wrong and she'd huff back into her bedroom sized closet and find something else to put on only to discard again. This was the little game she always played. A long procession of garments that would be worn and then thrown back because they were either too old, too flashy, too bold, too dark, too bright, made her hips, butt, or any other body part look big, or some insane fanatical reason why she couldn't wear something. And after all was said and done, she'd go back to the first outfit she'd put on and say, "I'm ready."

Also, there was no way he, the Prince of all Saiyans, would respond to that _horrid_ nickname.

"What about this, Vegeta?" Bulma asked, walking out in a lime green sundress. "Do you think it clashes with my hair?" Vegeta resisted the urge to strangle his woman. Earth women! You'd never see a saiyan woman behaving as such. To them, a garment was acceptable as long as it served its purpose. There were never such worries as _"clashing with hair_", whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. One of those fanatical, insane reasons. As for himself, he was wearing his customary dark blue training clothes. Perfect for everything. "Or how about-"

"Enough!" he snapped. "We've already spent three hours in this blasted room with you doing nothing but changing clothes, and we're an hour late for your party! So either pick a damn outfit or send everyone home!"

Bulma glared at him, and for a second Vegeta hoped she would choose to send everyone home. He hated these little get-togethers, where everyone he'd ever been forced to fight beside congregated together to talk about 'old times' and bother him while he could be spending that time training. But then she sniffed and stuck her nose up in the air. "Fine, Vegeta. Have it your way. I'll be out in five minutes." And with that she walked back from whence she came.

_I'll probably get the couch tonight for that_, he thought, _but __**damn**__ that felt good_.

After seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds, Bulma finally emerged from her closet. She wore a bright yellow short dress, almost an exact replica of the green one she'd worn before. A purple cloth was tied around her neck, and the shoes (_If you can call those 'shoes'_) were an un-ignorable red. "Satisfied?" she said sarcastically. He just grunted and left the room, leaving Bulma to try to click after him without falling over.

The gathering today wasn't for any of the usual moronic reasons; birthdays, celebrations, or random reunions. Originally, it was just supposed to be him, his woman, Kakkarot, his harpy and the new saiyan. The idea had been for him and Bulma to meet this man and have him move into their home so that he could attend the earthling 'school'. Why, Vegeta hadn't a clue, nor did he care much for the idea of meeting this saiyan in the first place. But then Bulma and Kakkarot's mate had decided that everyone should meet the new addition to an 'extinct' race, and soon a party had been planned.

Likely no one came to see the young saiyan. More probably they had come to leech off _his_ food and jabber mindlessly amongst one another. If he'd had a choice, Vegeta wouldn't have wanted to meet him either. This saiyan they had found would probably be like Kakkarot, especially after living with him for two months. He would have no respect for Vegeta as his superior and royal leader. He wouldn't speak the native tongue, or know his people's noble history. The boy was so young there was probably no chance he knew anything about his heritage.

Vegeta withheld a sigh of disappointment, his mask in place like always. He glanced at his mate, who had managed to catch up to him and was now chattering at him as if he were listening. Good, she hadn't seen any change.

Long ago, when Radditz informed him that he had a brother who may very well be alive on some distant planet, Vegeta had been… well, excited wasn't quite the right word… intrigued, certainly. Another saiyan? For years Vegeta had thought it was just him, Nappa and Radditz… the last saiyans, the remnants of a true warrior race. And now there was news of another, a young one by the commoner's name of Kakkarot... Surely if one could be found, then another was possible. And if that was so, perhaps five could be found, or a dozen, or a hundred. And among them, there could perhaps be a woman… He knew the idea was far fetched, but there was nothing wrong with dreaming every now and then. He could just see it: The saiyan race, reborn, and he as their leader, the one who brought them forth from the darkness of extinction. He would be remembered forever as their hero, their savior, and he could die peacefully, knowing that the saiyan race did not end with him. Hope, foreign as it was, began to fill his heart.

Under such dreams of grandeur, he secretly sent Radditz to find his younger brother, telling Frieza he had sent Radditz to a special training facility. It was well known the long haired saiyan was the weakest of the three, and so the excuse was easily bought. Months later, Radditz returned, but not with whom Vegeta had been expecting. Instead of a full grown man, as Radditz had said his brother would surely be, the saiyan had brought with him a child, a pitiful, weak, weeping little runt in bizarre garments.

"The mission did not go as we expected, my Prince," Radditz had hurriedly explained upon seeing him, immediately dropping to his knees and averting his eyes. "Something must have happened to affect my brother's saiyan mind."

"Explain."

"My Prince, it appears my brother was saiyan in blood only. He had no knowledge of his race, no memory of his purpose of destroying that miserable planet he was sent to. I informed him of what I could, hoping that he would decide to help us, but he wouldn't listen. I abducted his child here to hold against him-"

"Child?" Vegeta interrupted, eyes fixing upon the small boy, who wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to them. "A saiyan child? Could that mean-"

"I'm sorry, my Prince, but the boy is only half saiyan. My brother told me so himself, and my scouter picked up no other indications of the power levels befitting a saiyan woman." Vegeta nodded, not allowing his subordinate to detect the sudden sadness that hit him like a wave. He motioned for him to continue. "I held his child against him, hoping that would convince him to come with me. I would never have hurt him, Your Highness, I swear. A saiyan child, even half saiyan, is still precious, especially in these times. But Kakkarot was not persuaded. He tried to kill me, and in my defense… I am sorry to say, Your Highness, but I had to kill him. He was a weakling, most likely unable to aid us anyway, my Prince."

"Even so weak, it looks as if you were unable to get away unscathed," Vegeta sneered. He was not happy. Not happy at all. Now there was one less saiyan in the universe, weak or not.

"Oh this?" Radditz laughed, gesturing to the hole in his armor around his stomach. "That was not Kakkarot. It was this little one right here," he said, picking up the young saiyan by the neck of his clothes. The boy let out a yip of surprise, momentarily ceasing his cries. But once he set eyes upon the one who was holding him, he dissolved back into tears. Vegeta sneered. Pathetic. "He may not look like much now. That would be his other half, I expect. But he has the saiyan temper, and," he turned the boy around so that Vegeta could see his backside, "he has a tail."

That was the last Vegeta ever saw of Radditz's little nephew. He had given him the task of getting rid of the boy's "other half" and training him, but other then that Vegeta didn't bother with him. For all he knew, the child was dead. He had other things to think about, like the other little bit of information Radditz had found out while on his brother's planet. Apparently on this little backwater planet there were mystical objects known as Dragonballs, and when all of them were gathered together, they would grant a single wish per year to the gatherer no matter the request. That hope flared in his chest again as the possibilities of such power filled his mind. Just imagine, he could wish himself to be immortal! He could get rid of Frieza once and for all, and then in a year's time, he could wish back Planet Vegeta, and in another year, the whole saiyan race! Such dreams refused to go away. They plagued him by night and haunted him by day, until all he could think about were those Dragonballs. Only a month after Radditz returned, they were out again, this time all three of them heading forth to this planet Earth.

The defense for the planet was pitiful, despite their somehow forewarned and prepared 'training'. Nappa alone finished half of them before Kakkarot himself appeared, wished back to life by the very thing they had come to seek. Truly amazing, the power of these Dragonballs, to bring someone back from the dead. Almost instantly he had disposed of Nappa, his comrade and guard he had known since birth, and soon he turned upon his own brother. Vegeta didn't know what happened in the afterlife, but there was an obvious change from the man in Radditz's tale and the man that was here now. The fight was significantly one sided, and when Radditz died laughing despite Kakkarot's pleading for information of his son, Vegeta could understand. The man they had searched for in hopes of helping them restore the race was utterly destroying it instead. When faced with that, one could only cry in despair or laugh into insanity.

What Vegeta hadn't expected was for Kakkarot to turn on him, and his inattention was his downfall. If he hadn't escaped to his space pod when he had the chance, most likely he wouldn't be standing here today.

On the way back to Frieza's ship, injured and humiliated, Vegeta brooded in silence. _There were three_, he thought over and over again. _There were three, and now there is one. I'm the last one. That last of the saiyans_. Kakkarot didn't count. He couldn't count. _It was like Radditz had said. He was saiyan in blood only, not in spirit. And the spirit was what really mattered. What good was blood without the spirit?_ _There were three and now there is one, one, one. I am the only saiyan. And when I die the saiyan race will truly be dead._ And just like Radditz, he began to laugh hysterically. He didn't stop until he passed out from exhaustion.

He was brought back to consciousness some time later by a voice. A metallic, static voice. Someone was trying to communicate with him. "Vegeta?" it crackled. "Prince Vegeta, can you hear me? Respond." He blinked, fighting his way from the fog of his dozing state. There was only one person other then Radditz and Nappa that used his proper title without sarcasm.

"Prince Vegeta here," he managed to growl, and restrained himself from coughing. Barely. But such conduct would be unfitting for a prince, especially if he was the last of his race. "What is it?"

"Turn back immediately, Prince," said the voice. He blinked stupidly. Turn back? Now?

"Impossible," he responded.

"Believe me when I say it is in your best interest to follow orders, saiyan," the voice growled back. Obviously this was a person in power who was not used to getting crossed. "If you land you will be caught and immediately executed."

"Executed?" he asked, not quite sure if he was hearing right. "For what reason? By who's order?"

"Not important at this time. What is important is that you turn away **now**, Prince Vegeta, or else you'll die."

He took a few moments to look himself over before replying. "If I don't land now and regenerate, I will die anyway."

There was silence on the other end for a while, though Vegeta could tell that whoever was on the other end was still there. Finally, the speaker came back. "When you land, report that your name is Broon Caple, fifth class planet cleanser. You're late because you were knocked unconscious and left for dead. If you dare to disobey and tell who you really are, I cannot help you."

"And what shall I do if this Broon Caple shows up, hm?" he asked sarcastically. The pain of his injuries was starting to come back, making him grouchier even in his tired state.

Although the voice didn't laugh, he thought he could detect some humor when they replied. _Either that or it was wishful thinking_. "You needn't worry about that. Broon Caple was devoured by the natives of the last planet he visited. I kept his records circulating for just such an occasion. Now do as I say." And with that the connection was cut.

Despite his misgivings, he decided to take their advice, whoever he or she was. For years, he and the other saiyans had been helped secretly by some person on Frieza's ship. They did not know who it was, or even what the person looked like. Communications were usually done via telecoms, letters written in saiyan, or conversations where the person was hidden by shadow. The only clues they had been able to gather together was that the mysterious person was an officer, since sometimes shadows would shift to reveal badges or armor that was standard for officers. They were also thinking the person was a she, just by figure and voice alone, but considering the worlds they'd been to and how many different species of _things_ were on the ship, that was more then a little difficult to prove. But whoever **it** was, the person had been extremely helpful in anyway possible, giving them leads to possible surviving saiyans, sending them to easy planets in order to get some real training in, or anything else to keep them safe from Frieza. And now this person was appearing to help again.

He couldn't remember the landing. He was delirious and sluggish from the blood loss. All he could remember was someone carrying him, where or why he didn't know at the time, but now thought it must have been to the regeneration tank, because the next thing he did remember was being wide awake and alert, the greenish-blue fluid of the tank draining around him. When he exited there was only one light on, giving him about a twenty foot radius of sight. Right in front of him new clothes and armor waited to be worn and in the far corner, furthest from the light, someone was breathing.

"So what was this you said about execution," he said mildly as he began to dress. A dry chuckle came from the corner, and he smirked internally. So it really was his mystery savior and not some random being. Good, otherwise he'd have to kill him, and that could get messy.

"Frieza was suspicious when all three of '_his_' saiyans disappeared without a trace. He tapped into your scouters and managed to hear most of everything. But he didn't pay much attention to 'petty saiyan matters', as he called them." Vegeta noticeably bristled at this comment, but allowed the person to continue speaking. "He left almost immediately after he found all the information he required for finding something. Dragon balls, I think they were called." He froze, eyes wide. So Frieza knew of the Dragonballs… and knowing that maniac, he probably planned to…

"Shit," he muttered. Again, the person laughed, and Vegeta grit his teeth in frustration and anger.

"You can say that again, Prince. But before he left he gave strict instructions to all of his fleets that if any of you saiyans came back, you were to be… '_put down_, I believe, was the phrasing he used."

"Finally decided to put in end to what he started, did he," he said dryly, pulling on his gloves.

"You could say that."

"Would you say that Frieza went to planet Namek?"

Silence. He could almost hear the person debating about how best to respond. So he was there. "I would say so, yes. But I strongly advise, saiyan, not to follow. Go. Leave. There are other ways then this." If he didn't know better, he'd think the other person was pleading.

"Advice considered," was all he said, and he strode out of the room. Moments later, he felt rather then heard the person following him. He/she didn't talk, just followed. When he reached the docking bay and began to set the coordinates for his pod, the person remained in what little shadows there were. Silently watching.

After another moment had passed, he finally turned to the mystery person. "Who are you?" he asked, his saiyan temper clear in his words, but at the moment he truly didn't care. The time of being the good little monkey was gone, and the time of the last saiyan had come. And by his gods, that was what he would be for the rest of his life, however short it would be. The last saiyan. "Why have you helped us all these years? Why have you never shown your face, or told us your name?" Silence reigned, and the figure remained still. "Show yourself!" he finally yelled.

A pause, and then the figure moved forward. When he saw her face, he almost gasped. His eyes, he imagined, must have been bulging from their sockets. "D-Daen?" he gaped.

The woman smirked, hard purple eyes showing humor at his reaction. Everyone knew about the Miuran Daen, or 'Daen the Pain', as she was more commonly known as. She was a child of the rulers of her planet Miura. She was neither the youngest nor the oldest, and was an overall embarrassment to the family and her people as a whole. She would not behave passively as women of her world were supposed to do, and refused to become a political pawn for her father's and other politicians gain. The Miurans were powerful, far more powerful then the saiyans, and enough to rival the Icians, the world Frieza was said to have come from. And Daen, it was rumored, was the strongest of all the Miurans, which was humiliating for the men of her world. So Frieza, knowing that even with his vast armies they were not enough to destroy the Miurans, and that the Miurans were a race that valued peace more then warfare, struck a deal with them. He would take one Miuran as a soldier, and they would be left in peace. The politicians happily agreed, and Daen had been handed over. Varying stories argued about whether she had come fighting or willingly, but it didn't really matter. The Miurans were free of their embarrassment and Frieza had his powerful Miuran at his disposal. But whatever purpose he wanted her for she obviously didn't do, because here she was, the second (if not most) powerful person Vegeta had ever known, and she was only an officer, a commander of some shit group of soldiers who conquered weak and out of reach worlds.

"Why?" he managed to ask. Nothing changed about her, but she seemed to give off the impression of laughing.

"You must have been very young indeed not to remember me, Prince," she said. "Before I was removed to this position I was the ambassador between Planet Vegeta and Lord Frieza." Actually, he did remember seeing Daen in the palace a few times, but there were so many of Frieza's men about that it had hardly mattered at the time. "I became friends with your father over time. He sensed immediately when Frieza began to plot the saiyans' destruction, and he asked me to take care over any saiyans that managed to escape alive. He should have known I would have done so without his asking, but either way I kept my promise. I did not reveal myself because as long as no one knew what I was doing, I could better watch over you all. But you've all gone and managed to screw up and now only one survives. Which is why I shall ask you one last time, Vegeta, though the choice still remains to you. As your father's last wish, will you leave? Will you go far away so that Frieza may never find you?" she wasn't pleading now, if she even had been before. Her eyes were locked onto him, her voice steady, if harsh.

"I shall leave, Daen, but it is to Frieza I go." He managed to break their eye contact and once again went over his pod to check that everything was ready to go.

"You'll die."

"I know that. But what better way for the last of all saiyans to die then to die fighting?" he laughed, a short, humorless bark that ended almost immediately. "Perhaps, one day, Daen, you will accomplish what us saiyans could not. Maybe you'll be the one to kill Frieza." He laughed again. She didn't say anything for a moment. It wasn't until he sat down in his pod that she finally opened her mouth.

"I will not be the one to kill Frieza. That task lies with someone else. I shall die, as you shall die. But I think my death will have more purpose and worth then yours."

He gaped at her, but before he could say anything his pod closed, counting down to the time he would launch to Planet Namek, the place where he was sure he would die. She hadn't been joking at all. She had meant every word she said. _Did she just say my death was worthless? Me? The Prince of all saiyans?!_

Before the timer hit zero, Daen placed a hand on the red circle of the pod. Though her face was distorted, he could clearly see her. She was saying something, and even his saiyan hearing had to strain to pick it up. "Do not be afraid, Vegeta. You are not the last of the saiyans."

That was the last time he would ever see Daen, not that he knew it at the time. He never got the chance to ask her what she'd meant by that parting statement, as his pod rose from the ground and projected himself towards his latest… and possibly final destination.

He did die, as he had expected. But as the Prince of all Saiyans and one of the elite, he had been trained since infancy to resist and ignore pain. But after Frieza was done with his foolery and torture, it was impossible to ignore it any longer. And his death was far from what he'd expected. Far from the noble and honorable death of a warrior, dying in a fight where he'd fought his best and gave nothing but hell, his was full of misery and shame, his pride in tatters. He was the Prince, the last of all saiyans, and here he'd die on some pathetic planet with no one to mark his death but the _thing_ that would make sure his name was eradicated rather then remembered.

Kakkarot, for whatever reason, had shown up in his final moments. How he had gotten there, or knew where he or Frieza was, was unimportant. He had to tell Kakkarot… Even if he was saiyan in blood only, he had to tell him what this monster had done. How their entire race had been destroyed because he feared them, feared the power the saiyans could attain if they continued to live. Because of Frieza, countless worlds and a myriad of races had been erased from existence, for no other reason then that he could. He played to Kakkarot's soft heartedness and sense of what the earthlings called "justice", telling him that Frieza had killed both their fathers, that no one had survived but them. He could ask Frieza himself, the bastard was proud of the fact.

He was _begging_ Kakkarot to feel some compassion for his own race, to avenge those who had fallen. He begged him to do what should have been **his** duty, his _right_, as the last of the saiyans. All the emotions he had suppressed for years came rushing out. His hatred at Freiza and his army, his anger at his life and others that had barely been kept in check throughout his life, and finally that despair. His entire race gone, his father slain, and only now was he allowed to grieve. He was vaguely aware that he'd started to cry, but he didn't care right now. What mattered was telling Kakkarot what he needed to know to properly take revenge for his people, however unlike them he was. What mattered was enraging Kakkarot enough to utterly destroy the smirking being that stood only a short distance away.

He didn't remember much of the afterlife. He had only managed to see clouds… lots of yellow clouds and a large building in the distance… before he was surrounded in darkness. But it wasn't an empty darkness. He was under something… no, he was _buried_, and the dirt over his body was loose and he easily broke through to the surface, and with amazement took in his breathing, moving, _live_ body. He couldn't help the hysterical laughter that escaped his mouth, reveling in the fact that he was still able to do so. He was alive!

But far off in the distance, something managed to distract him from his extraordinary resurrection. Two beings were clashing together with monstrous power, almost equal in strength and speed. They were moving too fast for him to see, but every now and then one would stop long enough for him to make them out. One was obviously Frieza. Who else on this miserable planet would have that much power and a face that ugly? The other was an incredibly powerful humanoid being, with blond, spiky hair and turquoise eyes… a person with very familiar clothing on.

Vegeta had been speechless upon the revelation of Kakkarot being the one currently fighting Frieza, that the low-class saiyan had become the legendary Super Saiyan of old. He had to be! What else could explain such a drastic change in appearance, not to mention his power? Joy bordering on hysteria bubbled up inside of him, and his laughter echoed off the dark and dying cliffs of Namek. They had done it! A Super Saiyan was born, and their race was finally avenged!

It wasn't until one of those blasted Namekians wished them all to Earth that his old feelings returned. That should have been him. That was supposed to have been his path, his purpose as both an elite and a Prince. He, the last _**true**_ saiyan, should have been the first, if not only, Super Saiyan in a thousand years… not some third class weakling the refused to go by his saiyan name, and worst of all remembered nothing of his real home or people.

But it hadn't been him. No, it was Kakkarot. Kakkarot, a saiyan who had first died at the hands of his second class brother, yet managed to gain enough power in a year's time to not only destroy him, but to also defeat his guard Nappa and almost finished him as well. A man who did not even deserve to be called a saiyan, who didn't remember his people, or his home, or his name, and had destroyed the precious few survivors there were. He had become the legendary Super Saiyan, and was the one to avenge his race.

Vegeta became obsessed with becoming stronger. In the time it took for Kakkarot to come back to Earth, Vegeta trained, day and night, for weeks on end, with only one goal in mind: to become stronger then Kakkarot. And when that other Super Saiyan from the future had come to warn them about the Androids, Vegeta pushed himself harder and faster. Kakkarot may have been the one to avenge the saiyans, but if Vegeta trained hard enough, perhaps _he_ could be the one to protect his new home.

Years had gone by, and Cell had come and gone, and still Vegeta had yet to prove himself above Kakkarot. What would his father say, if he could see him now? What would he think when he heard that his son had not been the one to destroy Frieza, but that it was some low class warrior who went by an Earth name that had surpassed the royal blood in power? He would be chastised, and then decrowned, he was sure of it. As the Prince and last true saiyan, he should have been the one to kill Frieza, and he should have been the strongest of all saiyans.

Now all Vegeta thought about was training, increasing his strength, his speed, his power. He kept his progress to himself, lest Kakkarot caught wind of his intentions and started to train more as well. So now he bid his time, waiting for the right moment when he would be able to defeat Kakkarot and prove once and for all it is the saiyan spirit that truly wins, and not blood alone.

"Vegeta? Yoohoo? Veggie? Earth to Vegeta?"

Vegeta blinked and suddenly he was back in the present. He quickly stilled his features, lest they revealed the embarrassment he felt at being caught unaware. Bulma, his woman, was looking at him expectantly. She must have been the one to bring him out of his thoughts.

"Are you alright, Vegeta?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. "You were quieter than usual."

Vegeta stared at her a moment. She may be some stupid earthling, but she wasn't as stupid as most of them. Despite her air headed ways, she was highly perceptive when she wanted to be. That, he guessed, must have been why he picked her to be his mate. "I'm fine," he growled. She just rolled her eyes, clearly not believing him but deciding to drop it.

"We're here," she said, and before he could respond she opened the door and went into the party room. After a quick debate about whether or not he should stay or flee and train, he followed.

As usual, the room was crowded. Fighters grouped together in twos or threes, some occasionally breaking off to find another or to seek out a specific person. The Namek was close by, meditating next to the door they had just come through. Though Vegeta would never admit it, he held some respect for the green alien. What he lacked in power (which wasn't much), he made up for in speed, skill and sheer viciousness. Not to mention, he didn't talk too much, which was far better then the others, who never shut up.

The buffet table, as always, was practically overflowing with food, and people surrounded it on all sides. It was here that he and Bulma finally found the people they were looking for, and his woman grabbed hold of his arm and practically dragged him over. Kakkarot was, unsurprisingly, stuffing his face. His harpy stood near him, talking to the occasional warrior or acquaintance that passed by or shooting disgusted looks at her husband. And that must be the new saiyan.

He looked like a saiyan, at least. Not like Kakkarot and his brat, with their wide, open eyes and laugh lines surrounding their face. No, this one looked like most saiyans had; Dark, narrow eyes, tanned skin, scars and a certain rigidity to his back that only hard discipline could form. He stood next to Kakkarot's woman, arms crossed, eyes turned away from anyone in particular but alert and aware of everything going on around him. He wore what was obviously one of Kakkarot's hideous orange outfits, but without the blue underclothing. His hair was short, cut obviously, but it was long enough in the front to come half way down his cheek, as if he was used to hiding his eyes from people.

"Chichi!"

"Bulma!"

The loud cries of the two women were enough to break his concentration and he glared at them as they embraced and chattered pointlessly, as if they hadn't just spoken on the phone hours ago. Kakkarot was unfazed, as always, while the new saiyan just looked at them, any emotion or thought carefully hidden away.

"Anyway, Bulma, Vegeta, this is Mystic," said Kakkarot's woman, gesturing briefly to the saiyan at her side. Vegeta's eyes widened slightly in recognition of the name. He had not expected a person named after the supposed first saiyan.

Bulma smiled at the young man in front of her, in what she must have thought of as a friendly and comforting gesture. "It's nice to meet you Mystic. My name is Bulma Briefs, and this is my husband Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyans," she said, sarcasm dripping from her last few words. Vegeta resisted the urge to bare his teeth at her, instead settling for a glare that could have melted rock. She just ignored him. "You'll be staying with us while you go to Orange Star High!"

But the new saiyan wasn't listening to Bulma babble on. As soon as her introductions had ended his eyes had locked onto Vegeta, refusing to move or blink despite some of Vegeta's worst glares. And when the woman had finally finished talking there was silence among the group as Vegeta and 'Mystic' stared at each other. Only a moment later, however, the eye contact was broken.

It took him a moment to figure out what the newcomer was doing, but when he did, Vegeta was left gaping. And he did not care who saw.

The new saiyan had dropped to the ground, one knee raised with his left arm rested upon it. His right hand (which, Vegeta noticed, was missing a finger) was in a fist and held above his heart. Then he raised his fist to his head, palm facing outward as it came to a rest upon his forehead, his eyes once again fixing onto Vegeta. Then, in a language Vegeta hadn't heard in years, he said;

"_I pledge my heart and my soul to you, my lord, my last Saiyan King."_

* * *

A/N: Tada! You like? Then review!

And yes, Mystic spoke saiyan, and yes, Mystic is named after the "first saiyan", just like "Adam" was the "first human". Someone once asked why I didn't name him Bardock or Bardock Jr. … Well as I just explained, the only saiyan Gohan was around was Radditz, and he was ordered to train him, not tell him about the saiyans or anything like that. And when Daen met him (as I showed in chapter 4) he didn't have a name. He was either soldier, or half breed, because that's what everyone called him. So no, he wouldn't have been named 'Bardock', cause that's just silly.

Not to mention corny.

P.S. What Mystic just did will be fully explained in the next chapter, along with another flashback! Woo!

Anywho, review if you want more!


	9. Tell Me, Mystic

A/N: What's that? She's ahead of schedule?! That's impossible!!! Actually it's because I wrote the 'flashback' a while back, and only now found a place to put it. Nyah, take that!

I had a bit of trouble with the second part (convo between Mystic and Vegeta). I couldn't decide whose POV I wanted it in. So, I compromised. I divided the conversation in half. Mystic's side is in this chapter, and Vegeta's is in the next!

Oh, and just a mention. That chapter 6, that I was a month late posting because I had to rewrite? Imagine chapters 6, 7, and this one ALL in ONE chapter. Yeah, that was the old six. New chapters are much better, wouldn't you say?

On with the show!

* * *

**Chapter Eight – Tell Me, Mystic**

"_Tell me, Mystic," came the inquiring voice of his commanding officer, "how do you feel about your father?"_

_Mystic groaned, and would have brought his arm over his eyes if his entire body didn't scream in pain at the mere thought. Yesterday (or was it still the same day? The pain seemed endless, and timeless), Frieza had beaten him within an inch of his life, and then forbade anyone from putting him in a regeneration tank. So, here he was in the medical bay on a slab of iron, cold, starving, and waiting for his bones to heal enough so he could demand nourishment. _

_Daen came closer upon hearing the groan, a look on her face that he might have mistaken for concern if it were any other person. Her eyes swept his body, gaze stopping momentarily to take in all the blood, every bruise and cut. Then she sighed. "Well it seems our great 'lord' hasn't lost any power since becoming half-metal." She rolled her eyes, but almost immediately they sharpened to that could-be-concerned look, "But it seems he may have lost a bit of his mind in the process."_

_There, at least, Mystic could understand the concern. After gaining her trust, Daen had finally confided in him that she and several other powerful men in Frieza's ship were conspiring for Frieza's downfall, but so far had no idea how to do so. However, Daen felt she had found their chance in _him_ of all people. And since revealing said information, Daen had seemed intent on turning him into a legendary super saiyan. In the time he'd known Daen, his power had already doubled from when they first met. But if Frieza was in his final form, even stronger and half-insane after surviving a powerful attack, was becoming a super saiyan enough?_

"_I found that out first hand," he rasped. "I can barely… breathe as it is, and you… ask me about my father?" He wasn't sure, but his ribs felt like they were playing 'pin the tail on the lung' in his chest. Daen seemed not to notice (or ignoring it, he thought), and merely pulled up a chair beside his slab and sat down. Even with him five feet off the floor and her sitting down, her face was still above his. _I want to be that tall someday._ He coughed, and wasn't surprised by the red fluid that followed_. If I live to someday.

"_Humor me," she said dryly, and he snorted, softly lest he hurt something else. Then her face shifted to an unreadable one. "You've been refused treatment, and no one has come to check on you. So you're left alone in your agony. Talking, I've heard, helps fight off pain."_

_Well, it certainly wouldn't hurt. He coughed again, and shuddered at the sharp pain of a thousand needles through his bones. Alright, maybe it would._

"_I don't kn… know my father," he managed to gasp around the pain. Shit, it was hard to breathe. She gave him a piercing look, as if she was about to call him a liar. "I told you I… I can't remember my parents." When Daen had told him she liked to know her comrades, she _meant_ it. For weeks she constantly grilled him about his life before Frieza until she finally conceded that there was nothing to recall. She theorized he was taken at_ _such a young age he couldn't possibly remember, was traumatized to a great extent, or, and this one she most believed, he was hit over the head which gave him amnesia of sorts. Well whatever the reason, it didn't change the fact that he couldn't and probably wouldn't ever remember the 'good times' he had before this life. _

"_I didn't ask if you knew your father," she said quietly_. Oh._ "I asked how you_ felt_about him."_

"_H-h-…how can you feel something for… for someone you never met?" he gasped. Yep, definitely punctured something. She just stared at him. _Alright, stupid question then._ How did he feel about his father? Hm… well… "I l-love him, I guess." He coughed again, blood leaking down from the corners of his mouth. Silently Daen stood up and placed a hand gently on his chest. Right above where it hurt the most. He bit back a scream, and closed his eyes as he tried to think of anything that would distract him from the pain. _

"_Elaborate."_

"_I…I…" He couldn't stop a tear as it escaped from the corner of his left eye. It hurt, damnit! "Daen, I c-c-can't talk. (gasp) It-it hurts-"_

"_The more you talk, the easier it will get," she replied calmly, not moving her hand from its place on his chest, nor leaving to find a doctor. "Take deep breaths, even if it kills you to do so. Cough as little as possible. Keep talking."_

It doesn't look like I'm getting out of this anytime soon.

"_Why do you love your father?" she prompted. He rolled his eyes, but made sure Daen didn't notice. He still didn't see why she'd even bother asking, but that no longer seemed the point. He took a deep breath as instructed, trying not to wince._

"_He's ev-everything I hope I can be."_

"_How so?" He rummaged through his brain for the right words to say. He hadn't really thought about this much, just the fact that he loved his father. _

"_He's better than I am." Even though his eyes were closed he could sense Daen's laser eyes on him, and he could definitely tell she was _mad_ at this revelation. But talking was what she wanted and talking was what she would get. He could even admit the pain in his chest had eased the slightest bit once he began talking. _

"_He refused to submit to Frieza's men," he began. The heat of her gaze stayed constant. "He was threatened with eminent death upon refusal, and even his son was used against him, that I'm sure. But he didn't give in." To this day he could remember Radditz, his first of trainers, telling him how stupid his father was to resist the offer, never even stopping to consider it. "He stood up for himself, and died without submission. He died trying to save me. But above all, I love him because he died free._

"_I would disappoint him if he were alive. He died fighting Frieza, or a representative of him anyway, while I live to serve him. I'm a coward, too weak to fight back because I fear death. And when I die, I'll die in slavery. I will have no great cause to die. I'll just be a nameless soldier, while my father died for his freedom and trying to save his son."_

"_That," came a chilly voice, "is bullshit."_

_Mystic opened his eyes, thinking there was someone else in the room. But it was just him and Daen. And not for the first time, he was reminded that she was one of the most powerful people in the universe. Her eyes were a burning, crystalline fire, face frozen in the form of a snarling demon, voice so cold he could almost see her words in the air. _

"_The reasons you love him," she whispered, "are the very reasons you should hate him." His eyes widened. What was she doing? What was she saying?_

"_By the sound of it, your father was too stubborn. Too weak, in both mind and body." If he could, he would have lunged himself at her, though he knew in the back of his mind it would have made little difference. But since he couldn't, he settled for a growl and a glare. Both caused her to smirk, which only infuriated him more. How dare she make these assumptions when she'd never even met his father?_

_Why was she destroying his image of hope?_

"_Would you say your father is greater then the entire saiyan race?"_

_Where was she going with this? "No-"_

"_Yet when Frieza gave them an ultimatum of becoming soldiers or death, they chose soldiers. Does that make them cowards?" She didn't wait for an answer. "No, it doesn't. When it came to life or death, they chose life. Not because they feared death, but because they wanted to preserve their race. They knew they couldn't possibly defeat Frieza, and so they chose to be his personal army. And there your race waited and plotted, waiting for the day a super saiyan would be born so they could rise, unsuspected, and crush him. _

"_By choosing that life, they bought time, and the saiyan race lived, and spread. That's how you are alive today, because they chose life. If they had done the 'great' thing and_ _chosen death, you wouldn't be alive talking to me, would you?" Again, she didn't wait for a response. _

And here I thought "I" was supposed to talk.

"_What did your father's death accomplish?"_

_He opened his mouth to tell her exactly what was accomplished, and stopped. What had it done? Just another death in a universe where everything must die? An unimportant name on the never-ending list?_

"_Yet if he had lived, so much could have been done. He must've known he stood no chance against Radditz. If he had swallowed his pride, or even run away before he died, he would still be alive and able to help you. He could be training in whatever world you came from, becoming strong enough to get you back. He could even have come with you, so as to protect you and be with you always. Instead he threw his life away, and what happened?"_

No…

"_His son is here, where he was trying to stop him from going in the first place."_

"…_Why…?" Gods of any universe, why was Daen doing this? "Why are you –"_

"_Because," she said, moving around the table to stand at his head. His chest, strangely enough, didn't hurt as much, "I will not have anyone thinking themselves lower then another being. _Especially_ if that being is dead. You call yourself a coward because you were taken young and forcibly entered into this force. You know no other way of life, and you blame yourself?_

"_Your father is the coward. He knew he couldn't survive a fight, but he took that route anyway because he didn't want to live a life of servitude. True, neither way could have saved you from this, but at least one less life would have been lost, and you would not be alone. _

"_But you, Mystic… You are no coward." He closed his eyes and turned his head away, but she grabbed the sides of his face and pressed until he opened his eyes again. "You aren't," she snarled. "You were trained to honor and revere Frieza, to serve him faithfully for the rest of your life. Yet even before I met you the hatred for the beast was already stirring inside, unbidden and untaught. That was all _you_. But you knew if you revealed such a thing you would die, so you kept it secret, until another showed you they felt the same way. _

"_You think you serve Frieza, but really you defy him every time your thoughts of him are negative. Just by _breathing _you defy him, because you are part of a race he was supposed to destroy. You didn't give in. You fought, with yourself most of all, and with others. You are strong. _

"_And you aren't a nameless soldier. You ceased to be once I named you Mystic. No, you are the last of the saiyans, a warrior race that would be _**proud**_ to call you one of theirs,_ _because you are training to become their legend. You are working to bring about the downfall of the one who enslaved and then murdered them. _

"_As for dying, we all will die. No one is immortal, no matter how much that ugly thing thinks he is. But you will not die pointlessly, or on some barren planet in the backwaters of the universe. I shall see to that. But if you should die facing the bastard, just know this; If there is a scowl on his face, but a smile on yours, you die free."_

_He was speechless, fruitlessly trying to absorb everything she had said. It… it couldn't be true, could it? It was certainly… well, believable and convincing, but that didn't make it true. His father… he… _

_He couldn't even think straight._

_Wordlessly Daen left his field of vision, and he mentally sighed in relief that it was finally done. He had enough to think about today, once his mind got back together. But then he began to hear sounds coming from the other side of the room as if someone were messing with a machine. He looked up a bit, or at least tried. His neck screamed against the movement before his eyes could get above his chest. His curiosity only worsened when Daen came back into view, and simply lifted him from the table. _

_He gasped sharply as his entire body protested the movement, and he felt the familiar pain in his chest again. Daen paused for a second and gave him a once over, again with that look on her face. "You asked me why I wanted to ask you about your father, correct? When I first came in?" He nodded, the pain in his lungs too overpowering to talk around. She sighed, and for the first time Mystic saw regret on her face. Was she sorry? _

"_You've heard rumors about Frieza fighting a super saiyan on planet Namek, I assume?" Another nod. "They're true." His eyes widened, and she nodded as if to confirm her statement. For the first time Mystic realized she was walking. Where they were going he had no idea, but then he remembered that Daen was telling him the reason she had ripped away the gleaming, perfect image of his father. "The Lord Frieza was recounting an edited series of events to his father and advisors… " When Mystic had learned of her conspiracy against Frieza, she informed him that she had a contact in Frieza's top men. Who, she wouldn't say, but he (or she) was in deep. "The saiyan he fought had two names. My contact couldn't remember the first, but he remembered the saiyan name."_

Don't…

"_His name was Kakkarot."_

_He wanted to curl up into a little ball. He wanted to scream and rage and cry. He wanted his father in front of him and demand to know how he could have survived Radditz and not save him. He wanted… he wanted…_

_He wanted to be left alone._

_He thought he felt Daen squeeze him a little tighter, as if to offer comfort, but later he thought it must have been his imagination. She continued to speak as they walked to wherever she was headed. _

"_I don't know if it was your father or not. Kakkarot was a fairly common saiyan name, but with so few saiyans left it could very well be. And it made me wonder how many times a saiyan could die. Your uncle Radditz claimed he killed him, and Frieza does as well. That would mean your father died twice, which is not possible, or not at all. In the event your father were to 'come to life' a third time, I wished to assess your feelings, so that you know and trust yourself, rather then a glamorous yet thin image of a man who does not exist."_

"_But-but," he managed to squeak, "why did you make me hate him?"_

"_I didn't make you do anything, nor was my purpose for you to hate him. I simply disliked your reasons for loving him." She stopped, and her eyes met his. The raging fire in her eyes had dimmed down. She almost looked sorry. "It is possible, Mystic, to love and hate someone at the same time." _

_They were silent the rest of the way, until Daen revealed where she was taking him: The regeneration tank. He protested feebly, but was too injured, weak and tired to put up much of a fight. She placed him inside, making sure he stayed propped up as she went back out to mess with the computer. "Don't worry. I'll deal with Frieza on this. You need_ _some time to think alone, unbothered for a while, and I will not have my best man out for weeks simply because some sadistic tyrant wanted you to suffer." Her words were muffled through the glass and material of the tank, but his saiyan hearing picked up everything. Soon the regenerating fluid began to fill the tank, and the mask over his face started to leak anesthetics. His eyes drooped, but he fought it. It was a personal test, to see how long he could resist the drugs, but due to his condition he didn't think he'd be breaking any records today. _

_Before his consciousness faded, he saw Daen place her hand on the glass circle. _

"_I'm sorry, Mystic." _

That's okay, Daen. You did what you had to do. They don't call you The Pain for nothing. I may hate you for a while for making me hate my father. But really, it's okay. I think I'm stronger for it, really.

I'm… okay………

_Darkness took him._

* * *

Mystic stood rigidly, back straight, head and eyes forward, arms planted at his sides, immobile. From what he had seen on the "teevee" at the Son's house, Earth soldiers walked funny, always in a straight line with groups of other soldiers, or at a position called "ease". There was no such thing for saiyan soldiers. It was far too silly and disorganized, and ease was granted only if an elite or royal saiyan wished it, and only very slightly. And seeing as how his King had only told him to "Stop" since entering this room, here he stood.

However, since he wasn't forbidden from looking, Mystic quietly and swiftly surveyed the room.

The room was very familiar looking to Mystic, though he'd never been here before. The walls were smooth, sleek and shining, covered in some light colored Earth metal he had probably never heard of. The tile on the floor was a sharp contrast, dark and rough, but still uniform. In the center of the room, a large machine or computer of sorts rested, attached to both the floor and ceiling. He still had a hard time reading Earth letters, but numbers he could pick up easily enough. Four hundred was flashing on one of the machine's many screens, as well as a blinking arrow, as if waiting for someone to push a button.

It looked like one of a thousand training rooms on Frieza's ships.

"So," came the King's voice, and Mystic had to use every fiber of his self-control not to jump. Even though he knew how to speak his people's language, and practiced often, it was still very shocking to hear someone else use it. "How does a saiyan young as yourself happen to come across the only planet with saiyans still on it?"

"Dumb luck, sir." His King stared at him, and Mystic had to admit his comment was a bit audacious. Then King Vegeta tilted his head back and let out a roar of laughter and Mystic allowed himself to smirk as well. He didn't see what was so funny, but at least he wasn't being punished for his answer.

"That does seem to be the way of the saiyans," his king finally managed to say. "Now tell me, where is it you come from?"

"I don't know." Vegeta's eyes fastened onto him and he quickly answered to explain. "I was taken from my home very young, and I remember nothing about my planet, my home or my parents. The only one capable of telling me never bothered."

Vegeta stared at him before nodding, eyes and face betraying nothing, yet at the same time he seemed to express disappointment. That was understandable. If they had the location of just one more saiyan, how many more could there be still out in the universe?

"If you do not remember anything, how is it you remembered your name?" he finally asked, his voice tinted with the hint of triumph, as if he had just caught Mystic in a lie.

"It's not my real name. My name was given to me by one of my commanding officers once she realized I was a saiyan. Before that I was known as either half-breed or my number."

"Hmph," was all his King said, and he turned away from Mystic. Again, he could understand. Names were a very sacred tradition on planet Vegeta. Every saiyan child was given two names. The first was their own to do with as they pleased, to trash or make great. The second was either their father's or their mother's, depending on the gender. If Mystic had been his real name, then he would have had to remember his second name, and thus would know the name of his father. But even so, he did know his father's name. As he opened his mouth to tell Vegeta so, the older saiyan beat him to it.

"Am I correct in assuming that the Miuran Daen was the one to give you your name?"

Mystic's eyes widened, and he if he had less control he would have gaped openly at the saiyan king. "How-?"

"Everyone knew about Commander Daen. There were only three officers in Frieza's army that could be considered "female", and Daen was the only one who knew anything about the saiyan culture to give you an appropriate name. Let me guess; she's the one who taught you to speak our language."

Mystic nodded his head, and mentally berated himself for thinking that King Vegeta hadn't known Daen. Considering her wish to destroy Frieza with the saiyans, _of course_ she would know the only surviving saiyans. "Yes, my lord, she did. She felt that since I was the _last_ of the saiyans, I should know anything and everything about our race and home world." He almost winced at the memories of those 'study sessions'. After Frieza had returned from Namek and Daen had heard his thoughts on his father, Daen had told him he needed to learn what it truly was to be a saiyan warrior. Training soon became filled with saiyan fighting styles, all one hundred eighty-three of them, meals were shortened so that he could had more time to learn saiyan writing, the saiyan language, their history, their myths, gods, legends, everything. Once he had learned enough of the language, all conversations between the two of them were spoken in the saiyan tongue. And all of this between group trainings, planet raiding, and other responsibilities on Frieza's ship.

Vegeta chuckled. "At least she did a decent job in the respect. Tell me, do they still call her Daen the Pain?"

"Until the day she died, my lord," he said, quickly and furiously shutting down his emotions. He did _not_ want to remember that event anytime soon. If ever again.

That small comment quickly sucked all the humor off of Vegeta's face. "Died?" he said, as if he couldn't quite believe it. Mystic didn't blame him. Though it wasn't surprising, the actual death was quite unexpected. "How?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a demand for an answer.

"Frieza."

Vegeta stared hard at Mystic. "You mean Frieza ordered her to be killed?"

Mystic's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "No, he took her out himself."

"That's impossible!" Vegeta yelled, a vein protruding from his head from the mere force of his words. "Frieza is supposed to be dead! He was supposed to have died on Namek!"

"So were you," he said, remembering Daen had mentioned the saiyan Prince was supposed to have been killed by Freiza as well. By the look of things however, either Frieza had been lying up the wazoo about everything that happened about Namek, or Vegeta had only looked dead when Frieza was through with him and escaped when he had the chance. And if Vegeta _had _been there, then maybe he had known… "Were you really on Planet Namek the day it exploded?"

"Of course I was, boy!" shouted Vegeta, angry that this new saiyan had dared to question his truth. "How else would I know that Frieza had died?"

"But he _didn't_ die!" he said earnestly, as if he said it enough the King would understand. "He lived, and when he came back he told his advisors what had happened! He said that he killed two saiyans. One was you, and the other was a super saiyan named Kakkarot! My father!" Vegeta's eyes had widened, his mouth hung open slightly, but Mystic barely noticed. "And if you really were there, then you can finally tell the truth. Was my father really there and was he really a super saiyan?"

* * *

A/N: (twilight zone music) Vegeta's in a bit of a predicament, isn't he? To tell the truth, or not to tell the truth? What will it be?!?!?! Find out in the next chapter! Woo! And what rhymes with 'woo'?

REVIEW!!!


	10. Kakkarot's Brat

A/N: Hello, hello! My, my, you'd think nothing about your schedule changes when you're working a forty-hour job, but I was proven wrong! That's part of the reason why this is late, working forty-hours a week to get that moola for college (which I leave for in exactly 14 days). That's another reason this is late, most of my time has been spent with last minute loans and scholarships and whatnot. And just random things that get in the way of my writing! So, I hope I'm forgiven!

Answers for reviewers: Okay, these last bunch of reviews were awfully good at keeping me motivated when I was forcing myself to write, but some of you asked questions or suggestions, so I'll answer them here. If you didn't ask any, you can go ahead and move on!

**Flashbacks:** Ever since the very first days of writing this fic, 1/3 – ½ of the story was going to be flashback, because not only was this about Gohan realizing who his parents were, it was also about who he became on Frieza's ship. And personally, I always found flashbacks **much** more interesting than someone 'talking' about what happened. But, fine, if that's what you all want, I'm cutting back on the flashbacks. In all fairness, I will warn you that there will be at least one major flashback left. So, if you can't stomach the _boringness_ of it all, you can click the back button and leave.

To **Gozen V** – Remember, this story is AU: Alternate Universe. Unless I say differently, it's safe to assume that nothing is the same :p. For those that are confused, so far the major changes are: Goku fought Radditz alone, and so he lost and Gohan was taken away. Radditz and Nappa died in the saiyan fight a year later. Vegeta went back to the station (remember, it took them a year to get to Earth, so it might have taken quite some time to get back and then leave for Namek), met with Daen for the last time, then went to Namek. He went straight to Frieza (which means that Dodoria, Zarbon and the Ginyu Force survived) and died. Goku went super saiyan and beat Frieza, but didn't kill him. Freiza is rescued, some time passes before he is fully recovered (remember, one or two years passed in the series before he showed up). Instead of traveling to Earth, he assumes that Goku died, and decides that the ultimate revenge is to take it out on Goku's son, whom he has. So, Frieza never goes to earth and is never beaten by Trunks.

As for Vegeta having met Mystic before, it's hardly meeting someone if they're unconscious :p.

That all? Alright, on with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Nine - Kakkarot's Brat  
**

Vegeta stared.

"_He said he had killed two saiyans._"

And stared.

"_One was you, and the other was a super saiyan named Kakkarot!_"

And stared.

"_My father!_"

_This is Kakkarot's brat,_ he thought, his brain trying to catch up with such a large and unexpected revelation. He was vaguely aware that his mouth was open, and closed it so quickly his teeth clacked together. Not that he particularly cared. An open mouth was as good as a confession in some people's eyes, and the last thing he needed was for the other saiyan to make assumptions about Vegeta's knowledge. Even if they were true.

But how could this be Kakkarot's first son? From what he could recall of the brief time he'd seen the child, he had been weak, feeble. He thought the pathetic boy would have died within a week in Frieza's ship, a month if he was lucky. How could that weeping _human_ child turn into the saiyan warrior in front of him, a saiyan in every way that counted? He spoke their tongue, possibly even wrote with it, followed the old order and understood one's place. His body was that of a seasoned fighter, nothing but muscle and scars to mark past victories and failures. Best of all, he still contained the ability to think for himself, an attribute painfully missing in his subjects and old companions Radditz and Nappa, who clung to his words day and night. He couldn't _possibly _be Kakkarot's son. Nothing that weak could grow up to be so strong…

"_Oh this_?" came Radditz's voice, his earlier thoughts coming back to plague him once again. "_That was not Kakkarot. It was this little one right here. He may not look like much now. That would be his other half, I expect. But he has the saiyan temper, and he has a tail_."

And _he_ had been the one to tell Radditz to train the brat's 'other half' out of him. He doubted that Radditz succeeded in the month's time before all three of them left for Earth, but his successor, or quite possibly Daen herself, must have accomplished the original task because there was certainly nothing but saiyan left in the man in front of him.

_If this is indeed the spawn of Kakkarot._

"I thought you said you didn't remember anything about your past," said Vegeta, steering the questions away from him for the time being while he gathered his thoughts together. Besides, he wasn't even entirely sure this _was_ 'Gohan'. Kakkarot was an incredibly common name when the saiyans were alive. It was possible that if there were any other saiyans alive, they could be named Kakkarot. And if he wasn't related to this planet's Kakkarot, then the brat didn't need to have the truth. But if this was-

_He's not!_

"I don't."

"Then how do you know your father's name is Kakkarot?" Vegeta tried to keep the tone of triumph out of his voice, unsure if he had completely succeeded. If this brat couldn't prove that he was this Kakkarot's child, he didn't have to say a word and get caught up in this ugly mess that it would undoubtedly become if the wrong words were said.

The young man looked unperturbed by his words, however. "I do not remember the name of my father, or my mother," he admitted, but continued before Vegeta could interrupt. "However, the one who took me from my home world, my father's brother, Radditz, told me his name was Kakkarot. The name was confirmed later by Frieza after he had recovered from Namek." His words were said mechanically, his face blank and emotionless. But his eyes more than anything told Vegeta that he had not forgotten his original question.

_Shit_, Vegeta cursed. _Kakkarot may be a common name, but Radditz? _Any lingering doubt in Vegeta's mind was destroyed. His brain started functioning rapidly, trying to come to a quiet solution that would leave nothing changed for now and himself outside of this entire mess for later.

Mystic was obviously unaware that the family he was staying with was his actual blood family. Vegeta knew no one there ever called Kakkarot by his proper name. He doubted that the young man even knew that Kakkarot was a saiyan. His family also showed the same ignorance. Vegeta was positive that if such a discovery had been made it would have been anything but quiet. His and Kakkarot's mates would be chattering away on their phones or screaming or crying or whatever it was Earth women did when they were happy. Kakkarot would have most likely been running around the world telling everyone he met that his son had returned. And then Kakkarot's other brat would have been bouncing around, telling everyone he could see the 'happy news', just like his father.

What was also glaringly apparent was the Sons held no great love for their unknown son, and the feeling was mutual, if not returned with interest. During the party he had noticed the woman in particular kept her sharp eyes on him, as if waiting for him to do something wrong so she could complain. When she wasn't looking, Mystic had given her such a venomous stare that he was surprised she was still alive. How would those two react to the knowledge that they were so closely related?

Bulma had once tried to make him see things from the Sons' point of view, asking him how he would feel if his own son were taken away. A ridiculous question, to suggest that someone could kidnap a saiyan prince and get away with it. Not to mention that, should Trunks ever be separated from him, he'd be able to recognize the brat instantly by hair color alone. He wouldn't be mistaking every dark-headed child as his own, like Kakkarot's mate used to do.

"_That's not the point, Vegeta!_" she had screamed at him. "_If your son was taken from you, how would you feel and wouldn't you do anything to get him back or to learn about his whereabouts?!_"

_Do they have a right to know_, Vegeta wondered briefly, recalling his own thoughts at the time. _As father and mother and son, don't they have a right to know that the one they have searched for for so long is right in front of their eyes?_

Vegeta mentally shook his head. This was not a matter of what was right, this was a matter of what should be done. And what should be done was…. _Shit_. He had no idea. _I shouldn't have to be involved like this!_ He carefully weighed his decisions.

He may not like Kakkarot as a person… his entire personality and mannerisms disgusted Vegeta on the best of days. But he did respect him as a warrior. Barely. Only recently, with the birth of his new son had Kakkarot given up his plan to search the universe for his other child. While the man was far from "getting over it", he had at least managed to put the matter to the back of his mind. And in Vegeta's opinion, Kakkarot's second child suited him far better than the hybrid in front of him. Kakkarot and his younger brat were innocent and childish, overly optimistic and relaxed with the world around them. How would he react to Mystic, a person stripped of innocence the moment he stepped foot on Frieza's ship, constantly on alert and watching all those around him with distrust in his eyes? No doubt he had been sent on cleansing missions, killing entire species and planets without thought or mercy. Kakkarot couldn't even understand Vegeta, even after facing the bastard-lizard himself. How could he even hope to understand his own son?

But Vegeta could. He had been where Mystic was. He knew that Mystic was driven by a darker force then those of humans or beings _pretending_ to be human. The saiyan nature, the warriors code, the thirst that yearned for power, blood and victory. An itch that couldn't be reached, that told one over and over again that the way of life was to kill or be killed.

The only outcome he could see of revealing Mystic and Kakkarot for who they really were was chaos, not to mention quite a lot of crying on the women's part. It may change in the future, but by then it was hopefully not his problem anymore.

He decided to play it safe. There wasn't enough time to come to a true solution. With the family being so close, it was only a matter of time before someone else made the connection and the truth came out. But he could deny the inevitable for the time being.

Vegeta mentally sighed before he grudgingly began to speak. "I was indeed on Namek," he said slowly. There was no use in saying otherwise since he had admitted to it earlier, "as was Kakkarot." The hybrid in front of him didn't move, or show in any way that this bit of news had affected him. Vegeta mentally nodded in approval. "However, before the battle between your father and Frieza could end, I was forcibly removed from Namek. I had no idea whether Kakkarot had lived or died." Well, that was true. When he and the other Nameks had been wished to planet Earth, Vegeta had spent the next year trying to find any hint of Kakkarot being alive or dead.

Mystic stared silently at his king for a moment before opening his mouth, possibly to challenge his facts. Ask how exactly he had been taken away from Namek. How did he know Kakkarot in the first place? And Vegeta was not going to have any of that.

"What happened after Namek?"

Mystic's mouth clicked shut, and his eyes narrowed in what could be considered a glare if he were gazing upon anyone else but his King. For one moment, Vegeta thought he was going to deny his thinly veiled order, instead demanding the information he wanted. Vegeta could see the moment when the boy decided to bite back his considerable saiyan pride, and began to speak.

He listened as Mystic told how Frieza had been found amongst the floating remains of planet Namek, barely recognizable and in pieces just large enough to somehow sustain life. "It was often said," sneered the young saiyan, "that we were _lucky_ to have found him when we did. If we had found him a day or two later, he might have died." He showed no reaction when he was told about Frieza's recreation, how the feared tyrant became more machine than flesh and grew more powerful by the day in his recovery.

"When Frieza had finally healed from his 'ordeal', the bastard was more powerful then ever, which neither Daen nor I had thought possible. After Namek, he became more and more obsessed with saiyans, looking for any leads of possible survivors. If there was even a whisper of a saiyan on a planet, Freiza would destroy it himself. He never bothered to look for you or my father." Here, he smirked. "He was convinced you were dead."

"I don't understand why he never killed me, seeing as how I'm half saiyan at least. Daen never knew either, but she guessed it was because I was a soldier strong enough to do tasks average ones couldn't, yet not strong enough to pose a threat."

"After Daen died, Frieza always kept a watch on me. When I was on the ship I was always within his sight, and when I was on missions, one of his advisors would monitor my activities and give him reports, to make sure I never became anything more then 'a good pet monkey'."

"I'm not sure how long ago in Earth terms it was, but before I came here, Frieza and his entire army landed on a planet called New Namek. Apparently it contained whatever it was he was looking for on the original planet. Some mystic rocks called Dragonballs, I think." Vegeta's eyes widened, but Mystic didn't notice. He was staring off into the corner of the training room, as if that area was showing him the memories in his head. "It wasn't until most of the inhabitants were dead and five of the stones were gathered together that I learned what Frieza intended to do with them. He wanted to become immortal. And I realized then that the time Daen and I had waited for had come."

Silence. Vegeta stared expectantly at the young warrior, waiting for further details of what had happened next. But Mystic, it seemed, was finished speaking, still staring into the same spot he had been as he told his tale.

"And?" Vegeta growled expectantly, hoping to jar the boy into telling the rest of the story. Mystic turned his head, looking at his King with a questioning look in his eyes.

"And what, sir?"

"Did you kill the bastard?!" Vegeta yelled, not caring if such mannerisms were unbefitting for a king.

If anything, Mystic looked even more confused. "Of course I did, my King, otherwise I would not be standing here."

Vegeta growled at him. _Impertinent brat!_ "How did you do it?"

Mystic was not able to hide his thoughts quickly enough before Vegeta managed to identify them. The boy felt panicked. Now it was Vegeta's turn to feel confused. Why would he be nervous about revealing how he had destroyed Frieza? "I demand that you tell me how you killed Frieza!"

He could just imagine the war that went on through the young hybrid's mind. Deny an order from his king, or reveal a secret. _Daen did a good job_, he thought sadistically. Finally, after a tense moment, Mystic's shoulder's sagged just the slightest bit.

"I became a super saiyan."

"Show me." Mystic looked up at him in surprise, as if no one had ever asked that of him. It was only a moment before Vegeta realized that no one had probably ever asked this of him. Living side by side with Frieza, becoming a super saiyan was something you'd want to keep secret if you wished to live much longer. No wonder he had not wanted to say how he killed Frieza. Old habits were hard to break. "Show me you super saiyan form," he said again.

"I would gladly do so, King Vegeta," said Mystic, who looked like he'd rather do anything but. "Unfortunately, these ki blockers prevent me from doing so." He raised his arms and for the first time Vegeta noticed the silver band, so tight on his wrists they looked like they were made for him. He vaguely recognized them as the devices Bulma had given him to take over to the Son house when the new saiyan had just arrived. Opening his senses, he was shocked and appalled to realize that the power level of the man in front of him was as low as a human's! He glared at the blockers, knowing exactly where they came from and who had made them in the first place.

* * *

The party was still going strong when Vegeta finally made his way back. Then again, considering this particular group was known to keep a gathering together until the dead of night, it wasn't that surprising that nothing had changed in the hour Vegeta and his new 'acquaintance' had left. Vegeta surveyed the room quietly, trying to locate a certain someone with blue hair, a genius IQ and who just happened to be his mate. He couldn't see her anywhere. Not even Kakkarot and his woman were in sight! Just as he was about to extend his senses and locate their unique ki, a deep voice interrupted his train of thought.

"When are you going to tell them?"

Vegeta whirled around, and bared his teeth upon seeing the owner of the voice. '_Namek,'_ he growled in his mind. He didn't know what it was about this particular alien that set him on edge, but his defenses always went up around him. Perhaps it was because he regarded the being so dangerous. Besides the fact that he was the strongest fighter on this planet after Kakkarot, himself and their brats, the Namek was masterfully cunning and fast, which could easily make him an equal in a serious fight.

Vegeta wasn't afraid. He was merely cautious.

"When am I going to tell who what?" he finally managed to spit out. The Namek didn't even bat an eye at his tone. In fact, his eyes were still closed, meditating in the exact same position he had been ever since the party started. Vegeta's glare intensified. The least the blasted Namek could do was _look_ at him when he was speaking to him!

"When are you going to tell the Sons that Gohan has miraculously found his way back to Earth?"

If Vegeta hadn't already surpassed his quota for the day, he would have gaped openly at the green man. But after all the surprises he'd just recently been through, only a lesser man would repeat such embarrassments. Right now, the only indication of his surprise (to the knowing eye) was the increased intensity of his glare. _Damn know-it-all Nameks. _

_How did he even know?_ Vegeta eyed the Namek suspiciously. _Did he perhaps hear our conversation?_

"I'm not going to tell anyone anything," he finally said, unconsciously crossing his arms defensively. That was the truth, after all, and really, the best decision at this point in time. But the Namek remained blind to Vegeta's gestures, his eyes still closed and head bowed, as if he were a statue that just happened to talk.

"So he's going to tell them then," he said, as if that were the only other option. Vegeta snorted.

"I see no reason why he would do that."

"And why not?" Finally, a hint of curiosity in the Namek's monotone voice. Vegeta smirked.

"Would you want to acknowledge the fact that you were related to them?" He laughed, as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world. Really, who would want to realize they were related to a bitching harpy and an idiot saiyan who was in denial of his heritage?

"He doesn't know." It wasn't a question, but Vegeta saw fit to answer anyway.

"No."

One black eye opened, though nothing else had moved, and the Namek stared at him. Vegeta didn't blink, purposely staring right back. _Just try and find what you're looking for_, he practically radiated. _Try to find that answer so everything makes sense in your logical little world_.

After several moments of silent staring, Piccolo finally closed his eye, resuming his previous state of immobility. Only when Vegeta had turned his back to renew his search did he speak.

"You better know what you're doing."

Vegeta turned back, not that the Namek would have noticed. "This is best for now. Nothing good would come of them knowing right now."

Vegeta was halfway across the room within a second, looking for his wife so that he could order her to remove the thrice damned ki-blockers from a fellow saiyan. As such, he never heard Piccolo's reply.

"I hope so Vegeta. Otherwise it's all going to end up as one big mess."

* * *

A/N: Tada! Next chapter, school for Mystic! I have no idea when it will be up, seeing as how I'm off to college at the end of the month and I have no idea if I'll be able to write a chapter before then or do one quickly at college. We shall see….

Until next time, Review!!!


	11. Gold Fighter!

A/N: gasp I'm back? I'm back!!

* * *

**Chapter Ten - Gold Fighter!**

"Out of my way, people!"

She skid to a halt, chest heaving as she got her bearings. 24th and Yellow St. After one deep breath she was off again, bellowing at the top of her lungs at all of the unfortunate people who happened to be on the streets that day.

"Move it!"

More intelligent beings wisely removed themselves from the young woman's warpath at the faintest echo of her voice. Most however, were completely oblivious to what was going on around them. The lucky ones were passed by while the less fortunate were bowled over.

"Police business, stand aside!"

_Of all the days for my damn chopper to be fixed, it had to be today!_

Things couldn't have been worse for Videl Satan that morning. Not only was this the first day of school, today was also the day her father's training room had been shut down for cleaning, so she hadn't been able to get her early morning work-out. On top of that, just when she was about to head down to the kitchen for her breakfast, her watch had to go off.

"Videl Satan. Calling Videl Satan. Ms. Satan, this is Police Chief Gordon, are you there? Over."

She sighed, wondering if she'd ever get the chance to enjoy just one week without having to solve someone else's problems. "Videl Satan here. What's the problem, chief?"

"Robbery in progress," the voice crackled, cutting right to the chase. "On 14th and Orange St. at the Satan City Museum. They have about fifty hostages, all employees and customers."

"How many of them are there, chief?" she asked, already making her way outside. In these types if situations, it was always better to move fast and ask questions later.

"Four of them. Big guys."

"Armed?"

"Of course."

"What attempts have been made to subdue this?" she asked, not without a little frustration. This was the fourth robbery of the month she'd had to deal with. Out of four!

"We sent Daton in about half an hour ago. He hasn't come back." Videl ground her teeth. Harold Daton was about the biggest Hercule Satan gusher in all of Japan, which made him the most annoying person in the world in her book. It was just her luck that he was the Satan Police Department's hostage negotiator, a job that constantly had him working with her, Hercule Satan's only child, on many assignments.

"I just want you to know you were our last resort, Videl. We knew today was your first day of school, but there's no one else we can turn to." Something in the Chief's voice made Videl bite back her anger at being called that morning. The Chief was a competent and all around good guy, and even during her summer break he tried not to call her on assignment during her off duty hours. It wasn't his fault that today was her first day of school and some jerks decided to rob a museum in his jurisdiction. The fact that Daton was taken hostage also increased the severity of the situation. One of their own (however annoying he happened to be) was in there.

"I'll be there as quick as I can, sir," she responded, already heading for the door. "ETA; five minutes."

"We'll be awaiting your arrival," he responded. "Thank you Videl," he added quickly before cutting the link.

Moments later she had realized that she had turned her chopper in yesterday for some much needed maintenance, and with traffic as crowded as it was this early in the morning, she had no quick means of transportation.

So here she was, twenty minutes later, running as fast as she could to the Satan City Museum. Horrible scenarios were going off in her head of just what had happened in the last twenty minutes. Were all the hostages all right? Did the suspects make any demands? Were there casualties? Each thought added more speed to her legs, and soon she was approaching her destination. Just one more corner….

That was when Videl's day got worse.

* * *

"What do you mean there was a gold light?"

"It was so amazing!" exclaimed Daton, eyes full of admiration that was usually only seen on the young man's face when he was talking about his hero Hercule. Videl and several other officers rolled their eyes. "I tell you, it looked exactly like the lights those guys at the Cell Games were throwing around-"

"You gotta be kidding me…"

"Is he saying one of those Gold Fighters blew up the museum?"

"I thought they were all dead?"

"What would a Gold Fighter be doing here in Satan City?"

"You think he took a hit to the head?"

"I'm telling you guys, there really was a glowing ball of light!" shouted Daton, obviously hearing the not so quiet mutterings. "The thing was moving so fast I could barely see it, about the size of a basketball and it was beautiful! I swear it didn't come up from the floor, or was a bomb, or anything like that. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before! Ask the other hostages if you don't believe me!"

That was just it, though. They _had_ asked all the other hostages, all of whom spouted the same story of the "gold light" flying in from the street only to blow up in front of the building, saving them all. The would-be robbers were suffering severe burns, broken bones and a concussion or two. The hostages were only a little singed inside the building, leading most to believe the robbers had planted a bomb under the steps of the museum to perhaps ambush the cops, a thought that had all the officers turning pale or cringing at the possible massacre.

Luckily, the bomb appeared to have gone off too early. In the chance that the golden light may have been a shared fantasy by the hostages in a stressful situation, they had turned to Daton to tell them the truth. He was trained to remain calm under such events and would surely tell them what had really happened while the rest of the hostages were panicking.

No such luck.

Videl rubbed her temples irritably as she looked around for the chief, knowing that she would be unable to stand the endless ramblings of Daton for much longer. It wouldn't be the first time he'd cornered her to bombard her with questions about the great Hercule Satan. She wouldn't put it past him to start gushing about the Gold Fighters at the Cell Games, who in his opinion were bested only by her father. She glanced back momentarily and saw the star-struck light in his eyes. '_Too late_,' she thought crossly, increasing her search for the chief. They noticed each other at the same time, and the cross look on the Chief's weathered face as he made his way over to her did nothing to raise Videl's mood.

"I'm sorry, Chief," she began before he could open his mouth. "I completely forgot my chopper was in the shop, and it would have been murder trying to drive here in a car. I figured running would be faster and-"

"Videl, relax," said the Chief, waving his hand as if to bat away her apology. "I understand, and I'm not upset at you. It's this whole bomb thing, or whatever the hell it was. Everyone and their grandmother swears they saw a golden light flying _towards_ the museum, rather than a bomb going off on the stairs. The people on the street are even saying they saw the one that threw it. I don't know if that's true or if they were just taken in by the whole excitement of the thing." Videl nodded knowingly, remembering several occasions where the exact same thing had happened.

"What are the witnesses saying about the guy who 'threw' the light?" she asked curiously. The Chief shrugged, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to pat down his sweating face.

"Mismatched reports, the usual. Everyone's raving about how the Gold Fighter came roaring out of the sky to save the day. Of course, before Daton opened his fat mouth, some people were saying that someone…" he broke off for a moment, flipping through papers and notes given to him by the other officers. "Ah, here we are. 'A young man with dark hair and dark clothes. Witness reports having originally noticed the man when he tried to cross the police barrier earlier during the robbery'."

Videl rolled her eyes at the account. Black hair? This was Japan! Everyone had dark hair, and as for the dark clothes bit, that was the latest fashion trend to hit the "brooding" young. The guy just probably wanted to get a closer look at the action, was stopped, threw his hands up in exasperation and then BOOM! Presto, sudden Gold Fighter.

"I know it all sounds like hogwash at the moment," said the Chief, flipping through more of the papers as he compared other officers' notes. "And it's not the first time something like this has happened. Even so, we have to take this with all seriousness. First, I'm going to send a forensics team into the building, see if we can't find some remnants of a bomb to dissuade a lot of rumors. Until that time, when you get through with school I'm going to have you and every officer I can afford checking with witnesses, going through nearby security cameras, the works. Who knows, there might actually have _been_ a Gold Fighter here." He glanced at his watch. "Come on Videl. This is your first day of school, and I'm not going to have you be late on account of me."

She followed the Chief to the squad car, thanking him for the ride. After a few moments of silence listening to nothing other than the police radio, Videl turned to him. "You don't really think there was a Gold Fighter out there, do you?" _That would be impossible_, she told herself. _They haven't been seen in seven years. Why on Earth would they show themselves for a little thing such as this?_

The Chief sighed. "Videl, after watching the Cell Games, and seeing all the strange things I have in my line of work, anything could be possible."

* * *

_So this is a school…_

Mystic was wandering aimlessly through the corridors of Orange Star High, half-heartedly attempting to find the main office of the large building. Really he was just congratulating himself on managing to find the place. Bulma, his King's woman, had given him strict directions on how to get here and how to pass for "normal" amongst other humans…

* * *

"_Alright," she began, "tomorrow you're going to your first day of school, and I think there's some ground rules we should cover before you get there." _

"_Like what?" he'd asked distractedly, rubbing his wrists and staring at the place the hated ki blockers had, until a few minutes ago, been resting menacingly. Those damn things were finally off and he was now _free.

"_Like what you can and cannot do around other people," said the blue-haired woman, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To her maybe, but he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. "For instance, no flying, no super saiyan, no mention of saiyans or other aliens…"_

_He started to tune her out as he glanced around the room. He had had a lot of people telling him what to do in his life, and he had developed the ability early on to quickly tell the difference between important instructions, and everything else. It went a little something like this: If the instructor came from Frieza's ship, listen. If not, kill it. Of course, he had to adapt a little in this case, but the same rules applied. Suddenly something she said caught his attention._

"_Wait, what do you mean no eating?" He was aghast. Eating was the third most important things to saiyans. Right after fighting and staying alive. Who was she to tell him he couldn't eat?! Humans ate! He knew, he saw them._

"_If you would just let me finish," she said, placing her hands on her hips and giving him _the look. _He had long ago dubbed it as 'the Bitch Look'. Goku's woman was very proficient at it. "I was saying no eating more than you can fit onto one tray. Humans don't eat as much as saiyans in one sitting, and it would attract a lot of unwanted attention if you were to eat like you regularly do. Here, you can eat as much as you want, but in school, try to limit yourself to one tray at a time." He crossed his arms and glared at her, but said nothing. She obviously understood little of the saiyan physiology. The more ki one had, the more energy one had. To maintain that energy, one had to eat. A lot. _

_He could handle it. He'd once starved himself for an entire week hiding on a barren planet, he could handle a few hours of hunger pains to avoid suspicion. _

_Didn't mean he had to like it. _

Once he'd left Capsule Corp this morning, he'd followed the woman's instructions to the school. Turn right on Lemon Way. Continue until it changes to Silver Place, then a left. Keep walking until you make it… on and on. He was about half way there when he ran into a little trouble.

Like a bunch of people in blue clothes and wearing weird hats telling him he had to go away.

He blinked at the man in front of him, who was about a head shorter than him, yet was saying that he had to go and find some other way around with all the authority of a commander. Vegeta and his woman hadn't told him anything about this.

Looking around, he finally noticed the flimsy wooden barriers erected in a large semi circle, cutting off access to the street, as well as several metal carriages (_Cars_, he remembered) with blinking lights on top both inside and outside the barrier. Pedestrians were crowding around outside the barrier, all looking towards a large brick building that seemed to be the center of all the confusion.

"What's this?" he asked to no one in particular.

"There's a robbery going on in the museum," said a woman to his left. She looked fairly young, and she had a baby strapped into some sort of harness in front of her. "The hostage negotiator just got taken in and everyone's saying Videl Satan will be here soon!" she said excitedly, looking around as if expecting to see this person any moment. To Mystic, this all meant nothing. He didn't even know what a… what was it? Roby? He didn't even know what a roby was, but it was obviously the reason all these men in uniform were here.

"When will it be over?" he asked the woman. He had no other set of directions to the school, and he had to get there by a certain time. He forgot what time exactly King Vegeta's woman had said, he just remembered it was relatively soon.

The lady shrugged, not even bothering to look at him anymore. "Whenever they stop the robbers," she said, straining her neck to get a better look over the people in front of her, her poor baby being crushed between her and some stranger's back.

Mystic's eyes furrowed. When it was over? He looked over at the uniformed men (and women, he finally noticed). They didn't seem to be doing much. He looked at the large crowd behind the barriers. Obviously they weren't helping. They just wanted a show.

He smirked.

* * *

He stared at a sign next to the stairs, trying to decipher the human letters on them. It wasn't that he couldn't read. Human letters were getting easier by the day. Comprehension was a different story, but eventually he puzzled it out. _Main Office, Second Floor._

There was no one else around as he ascended the stairs, so he figured he must either be really early, or fairly late. He was betting on the latter. After casually throwing the small bit of ki at the building the woman had called a museum, the roby had definitely ended. What disappointed him was that instead of immediately leaving, everyone panicked. There were screams of "Bombs!" "Cell!" "Gold Fighter!" "Light tricks, I tell ya! Light tricks!" The people in uniforms were trying to calm everyone down, but doing a terrible job of it. Hell, half of them were doing the screaming!

He'd had to push and shove his way past the humans, regrettably remembering his earlier instructions not to fly or show his saiyan strength. It was only after he'd manage to make his way clear and was walking away did he realize that the slip of paper with his directions on it were missing. It had taken a long time of pointless wandering, and the help of an old woman who'd "Lived here since the day I was born, young man!" to finally make his way to the silent school.

The office was hard to miss. Instead of doors, the entire wall was missing to reveal the haphazard arrangement of desks and file cabinets within. Not to mention the large sign next to it saying "Main Office, receive schedules here."

"Can I help you, dearie?" croaked a voice, and he turned around to see the ugliest human he had yet to encounter. She was short and squat, the drooping of her jowls and large mouth making him think of a large frog. Green colored around her eyes all the way up to her eyebrows, mouth painted a ruby red, and her red cheeks made her look like she'd had one too many to drink. Bleach hair was piled on top of her head into some sort of cone shape, and she smelled like smoke.

Mystic was sorely tempted to ask the Fromle how it managed to travel all the way to Earth undetected, but managed to restrain himself. "I'm new."

The thing smiled at him. "Well of course you are," it rasped. "I would remember a boy as handsome as you walking the halls before now. I suppose you're here for your schedule then." Without waiting for a response she waddled over to one of the file cabinets and grabbed a punch of papers inside before coming back. "Name?" she asked.

"Mystic."

She smiled again, this time exposing her small, yellow teeth. "Last name, dearie?"

"Uh…" He honestly didn't know. Before he could even hazard a guess, the thing pulled one of the papers out and handed it to him.

"There we go, dearie. Son Mystic, correct?"

"Unless there are any other Mystics in there," he said, gesturing to the pile. She laughed as if he had said the funniest thing ever. He didn't get it. Were there other Mystics in there?

"I always say a laugh is the best way to start out a new year. Now then, I suppose you'll need a note for your class explaining why you're late…" she rummaged around on her desk for a pen and a piece of paper. He was about to ask her why he needed a note when she scribbled something down and handed it to him. "Just give that to your teacher and there shouldn't be any trouble. Do you know the way to your classes?"

He didn't, but he nodded all the same. It took all of his self control not to run away from the office. Especially when the Fromle called out in its crackly voice, "Come back and say hello sometime, handsome!"

Glancing at his schedule, he tried to figure out where his classes were located. His eyes, however, kept drawing to a certain corner where his name was printed. Something was starting to bother him…

Why on Earth would Chichi, the woman who hated him, give him their last name?

* * *

A/N: What can I say? I have been super busy, nothing can change that. Though it may have looked like it, I have no intention of dropping this story. Mystic just made it to school, :p. There will probably be more updates, if not soon, then definitely during the summer.

Thank you, everyone, for continuing to review and ask for the next chapter. It reminded me that this fic is not forgotten. :-)

As always, thanks for reading, and please _**review.**_


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